


Imagine

by tenandi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adolescent Urges, Chapters up as edits are completed, Crowley Pining, Crowley has cool powers, Demon guest stars, Gabriel and Bee are into each other, Inconvenient time freezing, Jealousy, Oscar-worthy speeches, Sexual Situations, The Them are study buddies, The arrangement is a board game, UST and eventual happy ending, alternative universe, divergent canon, falling for your best friend, finished work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21783826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenandi/pseuds/tenandi
Summary: Azira’s imaginary friend might have been a demon, but he was also his constant companion after his parents died. He’s heartbroken when Crowley disappears just as he reaches adulthood, but his therapist insists these are delusions. Until one day when Crowley returns and everyone else can see him. And if demons exist...does that mean angels do too?-“I did everything wrong,” the redhead expressed in a rush. “All of it. I was self-centered and heedless and I punished you when you didn’t deserve it. I’m a f*ckhead and a moron and I’ll beg if you want me to, on my knees and everything. What I want, ALL I WANT is you, in whatever form you’ll have me. But please don’t tell me to go. Never ask that of me. Because you might have moved on but it was always you for me, angel.”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 261





	1. Prologue

Azira was only six years old when he was taken to the orphanage. Instead of the warm, cozy interior of a family home he was greeted by bare walls and sparse furnishings. His bed was a simple cot in a room half-filled with other boys like him who’d lost their parents. The Brothers who looked after them were far from fatherly, and seemed to enjoy punishing their wards despite the religious facade of protection. Azira knew he wouldn’t last long in a place like this. He was too soft.

Thankfully he didn’t have to go it alone for very long. He had only been at the orphanage for a few weeks when the red-haired child appeared to him while playing in the garden. A boy like himself with some exceptions, as he came to find out.

“Your hair looks like fire,” little Azira observed. He’d been playing with a stick on the ground and tossed it to the side, disinterested.

“Yours looks like an angel’s. And you smell like one too!” the other boy replied, somehow believing these were devastating insults. Azira looked nonplussed. The redhead's eyes flashed with gold and his teeth were sharper than they should have been. “Aren’t you scared of me? Everyone else is.”

Azira tilted his head, full blonde curls glinting in the sunlight. “No.” He picked his stick back up and held it out like a sword, battling against invisible foes.

The red-haired boy stepped closer. “What are you doing?”

“Playing,” Azira said distractedly. “Do you want to play too? I’m Azira Fell. I’m the captain of the ship and there’s ghost pirates attacking!”

His companion searched for a stick and held it up, his brain working to see the imaginary scene Azira had described. “I’m Crowley,” he said assertively. “And I’m the king of the ghost pirates! Prepare to meet your doom!”

The two boys began to battle in earnest, lashing their swords together on the deck while dodging cannon balls and other fighters locked in combat. Crowley was forcing Azira closer and closer to the plank where a swarm of hungry sharks waited eagerly for their next meal.

“Avast ye!” Crowley cried out as he disarmed the captain. Azira watched his sword fly into the air, sheer panic overcoming him as he stumbled and fell overboard.

A strong hand reached down and yanked the blonde up by the collar.

“Did you not hear me calling a hundred times?” Father Gabriel spat. “You are the most unruly child St. Elysium has ever seen! This way boy!”

Azira fell into stride next to the priest while straining to look back over his shoulder. “But my friend!” he protested.

“What friend?” Father Gabriel demanded as he continued to drag the boy along. “You were playing by yourself.”

Azira finally managed to squirm free and ran back to find Crowley, but the space in the yard was empty. This time he didn’t struggle when the priest recaptured him, his eyes already welling with tears at the loss.

-

That night Azira could barely sleep with the painful welts on his rear. He would soon grow used to it, but it was the first time he’d endured corporal punishment. Father Gabriel believed it helped important lessons stick, the pain serving as a reminder of the sins that had been committed. In this case, lying about an imaginary friend and forgetting to attend mass. Azira winced and cried in the darkness.

“That man took you away from me,” an angry voice intoned directly above him. Azira opened his eyes to find the boy Crowley floating over him. The redhead was hovering in the air, his hair hanging down in a waterfall that landed in Azira’s face. The blonde batted it away before looking up in shock.

“You’re flying!” he nearly shouted, scrambling from the bed. Crowley crossed his arms as if the statement was completely obvious. “How are you doing that?” Azira asked.

“I’m a demon,” Crowley explained. “I do what I want.”

Azira yelped and scurried underneath his bed, his breath coming out in shaky gasps. Demons were evil. They hurt people and did bad things. He covered his eyes and began to pray. When he finally willed his eyes open the redhead was right next to him under the bed.

“Are we hiding?” Crowley asked. “Is this like the game on the pirate ship?”

Azira was shaking hard. He couldn’t force himself to move even though he wanted to. “I - I was hiding from you!” he stuttered. “So you couldn’t hurt me!”

“Why would I do that?” Crowley seemed offended. “You’re my friend! ...Even if you are an angel.”

Azira relaxed slightly. “I’m not. And I don’t have any friends…”

The demon smiled and reached out to grab the blonde’s pale hand. “Yes,” he replied. “You do.”


	2. Chapter 2

Nobody else could see the demon Crowley. Azira realized that was how his friend wanted it, so that’s the way it was. If the older boys made fun of the blonde for his imaginary playmate, they quickly regretted it. Crowley was extraordinarily defensive of Azira, and wasn’t above kicking, biting, or tripping people that made his life difficult. But having Crowley around had other side effects. Nobody wanted to adopt a child who had all the trappings of a poltergeist. One afternoon as a prospective family visited, every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen opened at once upon the mention of taking him into their home. They did not return again.

Not that Azira wanted a new family after all. It was hard enough to recall his real parents. If he was placed with other adults he feared he’d lose his memories of the ones who raised him. So Crowley became his family.

Azira spent his entire childhood with the demon, playing games and sharing secrets. He eventually learned to keep Crowley a secret too - from other children and especially the Brothers. He preferred it that way anyways. The redhead was the most important thing in the world to him, and he didn’t want to share him with anyone else.

By the time he was sixteen, Azira wanted to become an altarboy. He trained with Father Gabriel who taught him the appropriate rituals and prayers. The priest was a harsh teacher, and often yelled at the blonde when he forgot an important step. He wouldn’t allow Azira to serve at mass until he got everything perfect, which might not ever happen. Azira was particularly despondent one day when Crowley suddenly appeared, sitting in the priest’s chair.

“Why so glum, angel?” the demon asked, kicking his feet up on the altar.

Azira frowned and swiped the dirty boots away as he practiced his assistive Eucharist duties. “I’m not,” he protested. “Just concentrating.”

“You look like a ponce in those robes,” Crowley said lightly. “Why not chuck them and come play with me instead?”

The blonde closed his eyes, trying to ignore his friend. “I have to get this right,” he said with gritted teeth. Crowley rolled his eyes and came to stand beside Azira before popping a communion wafer into his mouth. He chewed nonchalantly while the blonde stared at him.

“Shouldn’t that like...burn you or something?” Azira asked. “How can you even be in here?”

The demon smirked. “Holiness isn’t controlled by mortals, Zira. Priests can say whatever they want, but God’s power remains all Her own. Blech. This wafer tastes like a shoe sole.”

Azira pushed him affectionately. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go do something fun.”

The boys ran down to the nearby lake and began to strip off their clothing by the bank. Azira had forgotten to take off his robes while at church, so he folded them and placed them carefully over a bush. He was just finishing when he turned to see the demon’s pale ass as he wiggled out of his pants. Normally the sight would elicit a giggle from the boy, but this time felt different somehow. Azira couldn’t take his eyes off of Crowley as he stretched luxuriously. He did a slight quarter-turn as he looked off in the distance, giving Azira an eye full of the red patch of hair trailing down his belly. The blonde licked his lips, barely glimpsing the soft swell of Crowley’s prick.

Suddenly Crowley ran toward the water, diving in at the deep end and coming up for air with a joyous cry. “Come on!” he cheered. “The water’s fantastic!”

Azira threw his remaining clothing on the ground and ran to meet his friend, splashing him as he landed just a few inches away. This led to a vigorous game of trying to dunk one another before racing toward their favorite island in the middle of the lake. As usual, Crowley got there first, and made a show of his victory with self-congratulatory whoops.

“It’s hardly fair,” Azira groused. “You have superhuman strength.”

“And prowess,” Crowley added, drawing an annoyed look from his friend.

The boys laid down on the beach, allowing the sun to dry their bodies. Azira was careful not to look over at his friend.

“So what are the Brothers cramming into your head these days, beside liturgical nonsense?” the redhead asked.

“Oh!” Azira said with a laugh. “I meant to tell you we’ve started sex ed! They use these really old diagrams and absolutely refuse to use the word vagina in any context. They call it God’s special garden.”

The two shared a good chuckle at this before Crowley commented further, “I’m not sure what the point is with no girls around to tempt your lot.”

Azira laughed half-heartedly and couldn’t help but wring his hands together. “Well...not all of the boys fancy girls,” he said slowly. He could hear Crowley roll over onto his stomach and felt himself being watched.

“Oh?” the demon asked mischievously.

Azira felt his skin flush as he rolled over to face his friend. He looked away for a long while before finally meeting his gaze. “Well...there’s one boy I sit next to in Science. He looks at me funny sometimes.”

“Oh.” Crowley repeated, the mirth leaving his face.

Azira swallowed hard. “A few days ago I was working in the kitchen and he asked to talk to me. But it turned out he didn’t want to talk at all. He um...he kissed me.”

A shadow passed over the demon’s face. “He what?”

“He…” Azira began and stopped, his voice fading into a murmur. “You heard me.”

Suddenly Crowley sat up, squeezing his legs to his chest and staring hard out over the water. Azira observed the millions of sand grains clinging to his thigh and calf, then up to the cherry pout of the demon’s lower lip. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he sat up and mirrored the redhead’s position. Absentmindedly, he began to dig into the warm sand.

“What’s his name?” Crowley demanded, breaking the silence.

“What’s that matter?” Azira asked petulantly, thinking his friend didn’t believe him. “Besides, what do you have against it? Aren’t you an evil demon who hates the status quo? You should be rejoicing that I was morally corrupted.”

Crowley hissed out angrily. “It’s not a sin! I don’t care anyways.”

Azira felt a cold spot gathering in his heart but didn’t know why. He shifted slightly to face the redhead. “Um...have you ever?”

Crowley could have leveled him with his eyes. “What? Kissed someone?” He blew out a breath. “Don’t be stupid. I’m a demon. We don’t need human contact.”

Azira leaned closer, his bright blue eyes drawing Crowley’s in. When his voice came out, it was a broken whisper. “Do you ever want to?” The demon’s gaze flicked down to the blonde’s lips. Azira wasn’t sure if he imagined the shudder that racked Crowley’s frame. Maybe it was just the wind picking up. Azira bit his lip as his heart hammered in his chest.

“This way!” a voice rang out. Azira’s attention snapped back to the tree-lined area behind them. The island was isolated, but not devoid of occasional visitors. Azira didn’t question it as he jumped back into the water, leaving the demon to stare after him from the shore.


	3. Chapter 3

When Azira reached the far side of the lake where he’d left his clothing the bright sun had been replaced with menacing clouds. He dressed quickly before bundling up his robes and running back toward the orphanage. The rain began to fall down in huge drops, and try as he might he could not protect the bundle in his arms. He grimaced as he ran, knowing the punishment for this accident would be severe.

Sure enough, Father Gabriel was waiting for him when he returned. Azira had tried to sneak past the dining hall, but the priest’s voice arrested him before he reached the stairs.

“Sloth is but one sin you’ve committed today,” Gabriel intoned. He took in the wet robe in Azira’s hand and sighed. “I suppose we can count the rest together.” He held up his hand and the blonde’s head bowed. He followed the priest into his office, and Gabriel shut the door with an ominous click.

-

That night Azira tossed and turned in bed, wincing with every movement. He’d probably been caned at least fifty times at St. Elysium, but this was one of the worst. On top of everything, he’d upset his only friend, and was worried sick he might have driven him away. He needn’t have fretted though.

Red hair trickled down over his face, but Azira sensed the demon’s presence before then.

“I thought you were mad at me,” the blonde said flatly, eyes resolutely shut.

“No,” the answer was infinitely soft. Azira lifted his blanket and a heavy weight settled in behind him before a hand moved to circle his waist. They had often slept like that as children, but it had been a very long time since they’d revisited the tradition.

“I’m sorry,” a whisper echoed in Azira’s ear. The demon inched closer and the blonde hissed in pain. “What happened?” Crowley voice was laced with concern.

“Father Gabriel,” Azira said miserably. He flinched as Crowley’s hand left his waist and trailed down to his plump buttocks.

“Here?” the demon asked. Azira said nothing, but nodded his head in affirmation.

Slowly, gently, Crowley began to massage him over his clothing. Azira felt a twinge of heat in his abdomen, and sucked in a breath as the pain turned into something else. Crowley’s hand withdrew only to sneak under Azira’s waistband, skin on skin. It dipped down to cup one cheek, rubbing tentatively. The demon must have been using some power, because where he touched the pain leached away instantly.

“Oh,” Azira whispered in a strangled voice. “That feels good.”

The demon’s hand lingered long after the last vestige of bruising had gone, kneading Azira’s flesh in a rhythmic manner, palm skating over warm skin. Once, just once, Azira felt Crowley’s fingers tickle over his cleft and the blonde choked into his pillow. Immediately the hand was withdrawn, and Crowley spoke tightly. “Good night, angel.”

Cool air cradled his back in the absence of the demon’s warmth. Azira didn’t have to look to know his friend was gone. The blonde’s hands turned into tight fists near his face, refusing to acknowledge the ache Crowley had woken between his legs. He concentrated on keeping his eyes shut tight, unaware a presence still watched over him as he drifted asleep.

-

It was over a week before Azira saw Crowley again, and he didn’t bother to ask where his friend had been. He tended to do that. The two picked up as if nothing had happened, and as far as Azira was concerned nothing really had happened. They had a misunderstanding, a bit of a fight, then Crowley had helped him when he was suffering. There wasn’t much else to think about.

-

Azira’s seventeenth birthday was a non-event as usual. The Brothers didn’t recognize birthdays, so only the boys themselves knew when they had one if they remembered at all. Azira usually spent the day in the garden, depending on the weather. As this day was particularly nice, he decided to do a bit of weeding and ensure the local fauna hadn’t been getting into his vegetable patch.

He’d been working for a few hours when a newer addition to the orphanage, a boy named Stephen, appeared over the fence.

“Hey,” the slightly older brunette said. He had wide green eyes and freckles on his face. He was handsome, though Azira tried not to notice.

“Hello,” Azira said softly. He was digging in the dirt trying to extract a stubborn weed.

“Want some help?” Stephen asked, eyeing the plant with interest.

“Sure,” Azira replied. “Think you can pull this out for me? The roots are too deep to get a good grip.”

Stephen jumped over the fence easily and came to sit next to the blonde. He borrowed the hand shovel and dug deep into the earth. With Stephen on the task, Azira turned to pluck individual blades of grass away from his tulip bed. They worked silently for a long time.

“Aha!” Stephen cried triumphantly when he finally wrestled the weed from its home. He held it up and dirt rained down over him, eliciting a laugh from the blonde.

“Here,” Azira said as he reached up his hand to the boy’s face. He brushed some wet soil from Stephen’s cheek with a grin. From behind his companion’s head the shadow of a figure appeared.

“Who’s this wanker?” Crowley asked, his tone undeniably bitchy.

Azira ignored him, knowing that any response would make Stephen think he was crazy. He’d learned that the hard way when he was younger.

“Thanks,” Stephen said. “This is a lot harder than it looks. How do you keep it so nice?”

“Patience,” Azira replied. “And perseverance. No sooner have I sorted it than it all goes to seed again.”

Crowley moved around Stephen and looked him up and down before sneering. “Quite a large growth right here. Shall I remove it for you?”

Azira shot his friend a covert glare before resuming his work.

“I could help out, you know,” Stephen said lightly. “If you need an extra hand. I’d like it if we could...that is to say, if you wanted to...spend time together.”

“Ugh,” Crowley groaned.

Azira stiffened. “That’s quite enough!”

“Oh,” Stephen said in surprise. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry!” He began to stand up.

“No, not you,” Azira tried to cover. “The um...plants. Just frustrated with them.”

Stephen gave him a weird look. “You talk to the plants?”

“Just when they’re being complete knob heads,” the blonde muttered.

The brunette laughed. “Well...better leave you to it. Maybe I’ll see you later?”

Azira smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that!” He watched the other boy leave before turning to face Crowley. “What exactly is your problem?”

The redhead was pouting. “Nothing! Just came to wish you a happy birthday but it seems you’ve already been celebrating with someone else.”

“I’d hardly call gardening a celebration,” Azira said stiffly. He crossed his arms and huffed. “You’re going to have to deal with the fact that I happen to talk to other people every so often. It doesn’t mean I’m automatically replacing you as my best friend.”

Crowley’s nose twitched. “Didn’t say you were.”

“Well good, glad that’s cleared up,” Azira said sarcastically as he stood to brush the dirt from his clothes. He turned on his heel and began to make for the house. Crowley appeared at his side, keeping apace easily.

“I er...haven’t given you your present yet,” the demon supplied.

Azira stole a glance at the redhead from the corner of his eye. “Oh?” he asked nonchalantly.

Crowley took a deep breath and grabbed Azira’s hand, bringing them both to a halt. The blonde looked down at their joined hands, marveling at the soft warmth of Crowley’s fingers as they tickled over his palm. Azira breathed in and took a step closer to the redhead. He felt oddly dizzy as he stared into those bright golden eyes.

Crowley squeezed Azira’s hand into a fist and the blonde felt a cool sensation manifest in the center of his palm.

“Go on,” the demon said softly as his hand retreated.

Azira uncurled his fingers and stared at the tiny golden key that glinted in the sunlight. He looked up at his friend expectantly.

“Come with me,” Crowley said with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. He ran inside the orphanage with the blonde in tow. Eventually they stopped at the library and Crowley led him to the back room where the rare books and scrolls were kept in an antique cabinet. He grabbed Azira’s hand and helped him fit the key in the lock, turning it with an ominous click.

Azira’s eyes went wide and his face practically illuminated when he realized what his friend had bestowed upon him. He reached inside the cabinet to stroke down one of the ancient spines.

“Oh...Crowley,” he breathed. In an instant he’d turned toward the demon and before he knew what he was doing, planted a quick kiss on his lips. “Um…” he mumbled, glancing up and away. “Thank you. Really, thank you.”

His cheeks blazing, he looked back at the cabinet and lost himself in the titles. When he looked up again, the demon was gone.

-

Azira couldn’t get the kiss out of his head, even though it was just a tiny peck. It was something he’d thought about before, although the delivery would have been much different according to his fantasies. He’d dreamed about his fingers moving through soft red waves, gently at first and then pulling mercilessly. His ghost of a kiss would deepen and become a blend of tongue and teeth.

The blonde was laying down in his bed as he remembered the pink tinge of his friend’s cheeks. The surprised, slightly open mouth when Azira had withdrawn. What would have happened if he’d leaned back in to take the kiss he truly wanted?

Azira squirmed in his sheets, the familiar ache beginning between his thighs. He’d been taught to ignore it by the Brothers. It was a sin to give in to such pleasure, but on this night after having a taste of something forbidden, he wanted more. Quietly he allowed a hand to drift down and palm over the growing bulge in his pajama pants. A quick squeeze there sent a throb of heat through his body and made him gasp into his pillow. It felt amazing.

“What are you doing?” a voice whispered in the dark.

“Fuck!” Azira swore loudly. Crowley was hovering over him as usual.

“Nothing!” The blonde tried to cover. “Go away!”

Crowley lowered himself and sank onto the bed. “Liar.” His eyes roved over his friend, noting that his hands were nowhere to be seen.

“Are you…” the redhead asked curiously before inhaling grandly. “Azira, are you sinning?”

Azira’s face went beet red and he disappeared under the comforter, a soft cry escaping his lips. Crowley appeared next to him under the sheets. His golden eyes were wide and visible even in the darkness.

“Don’t be ashamed,” the demon instructed. “You can tell me anything, angel. And I...well, I know the other boys do it if that makes you feel any better.”

“Really?” Azira asked. He honestly believed he was the only one who’d thought about it.

“All the time,” Crowley giggled. “Bunch of perverts around here.”

Azira smiled in relief before returning to sobriety. “Do um...do you? Or is that just a human thing?”

“Never tried,” Crowley answered. “Not even sure how it’s done exactly.”

Azira nodded. “I um...I don’t know myself. I haven’t yet. Not really.”

Crowley stared at him expectantly, his face passive and innocent, or at least as innocent as a demon’s could be. “Would you...can I see?”

Azira blanched before he realized they had shared everything else together, and he trusted Crowley.

“Okay,” the blonde breathed. His hand inched back down to the half-hard erection in his pants and drifted over the fabric, his eyes closing instinctually. He rubbed himself until he was straining through his pajamas, his own breathing coming out harder with each ministration. Instinct took over and he pushed his pants down, freeing the engorged cock to allow a wider range of movement.

He heard Crowley gasp sharply and met his friend’s eyes which were hungry and alive. “C-can I?” the demon asked. Azira nodded even though he wasn’t sure what he was granting permission for. He watched Crowley’s fingers reach toward him until they closed around his heated cock and squeezed lightly.

“Ohh!” Azira couldn’t help the cry that escaped his lips.

Crowley’s forehead pushed against his own. “Is that good? You like it?” the redhead asked, his voice far away.

“Yesss,” Azira moaned. “Please don’t stop.”

Crowley squeezed him again and then began to stroke up and down experimentally. Azira moved with him in small jerky motions, arching into the demon’s hand.

“Oh god!” Azira gasped. “Crowley!”

“Say it again,” the demon demanded as he picked up the pace. His lips were so close that they pushed into the blonde’s soft cheek. They trailed down into the crook of Azira’s neck and lapped at the salty skin there. The taste of the blonde was addictive and he kept moving over the same spot again and again, his toes curling in mutual pleasure.

“Crowley!” Azira whimpered. “Oh fuck Crowley!” He convulsed into himself and unloaded, hot ejaculate coating the demon’s hand and the clean sheets around it. Crowley didn’t stop touching him until the blonde positively shuddered and pushed his hand away, only to interlace the demon’s sticky fingers with his own. They both lay panting in the incredible heat they’d created under the blanket, neither daring to push the comforter down even though they were burning alive.

At last the demon snapped his fingers and the mess was miracled away. Azira snuggled into his friend’s shoulder and wrapped a heavy leg over his thigh. “Stay with me,” the blonde commanded, but Crowley couldn’t tell if he meant just that night or forever. He decided to promise both, just in case.


	4. Chapter 4

Azira knew he wanted something more with Crowley, but the two had never spoken about that night they spent together. Azira started to think that his romantic inclinations were one-sided, and that maybe demons didn’t have the same kind of urges or desires as humans at all. Hadn’t Crowley said as much before? And what were the odds that two unlike beings could share happily ever after together? It didn’t seem very realistic.

Azira was invited by some of the senior boys on a camping trip, and decided at last to try and expand his social circle. He didn’t bother to tell Crowley that he was going, he merely packed up his things and disappeared for the weekend. The boys hiked for hours to reach the camp ground, a pine-filled paradise on the other side of the lake. It was just on the tail end of summer, and even in the early evening the stars were shining.

Azira laughed along with the other boys, Stephen among them. The brunette came to sit next to him after the fire was lit and offered him a drink of something from his flask. Azira sipped gingerly and nearly spat it out, his tongue on fire.

“What is that?” the younger boy demanded.

Stephen giggled and drank heavily from the flask. “Whiskey,” he wheezed. “One of the main reasons we come out here, actually.”

Azira was scandalized and excited. He eagerly took the flask and drained it even though it burned all the way down.

“Way to go Azira!” one of the other boys cheered between hiccups. For the first time in a long time, the blonde felt like he belonged somewhere, even among the other orphans. He was just starting to enjoy himself when he discerned whispers moving through the pines. “Someone’s coming!” he panicked, but Stephen merely threw an arm around him in a calming gesture.

A small group of girls appeared on the other side of the clearing, lit by a single lantern at the front. Catcalls went up they drew near.

“Shut up!” a pretty blonde censored. “It’s not like you weren’t expecting us.” She leaned in and kissed Raymond, the oldest boy in the group. Her friends approached more hesitantly, greeting the rest of the boys one by one.

Azira could hardly believe what he was seeing. “Where did they come from?” he whispered to Stephen.

“All girls school just a mile from here,’ Stephen confided. “Raymond keeps in touch and plans outings for everyone to meet up.”

Azira stared at the girls as if they were aliens. He nearly jerked away when one came to sit beside him.

“I’m Lucy,” the girl said. Her breath was laced with alcohol, but then, so was Azira’s. She leaned heavily against his side. “It’s cold out here. Aren’t you freezing?”

“He’s fine,” Stephen said stuffily. “Aren’t you Azira?”

The blonde looked at his companion to the left and then to the right. Talk about being caught in the middle. He cleared his throat as he stood. “Maybe something more to drink?”

Raymond appeared over his shoulder and smacked a huge vodka bottle into his chest. “Ask and you shall receive!” he joked. Azira guzzled down a few shots before holding the bottle aloft. “Amen!” he cried out, and everyone laughed.

He stared up at the sky and took in the millions of stars overhead. He felt dizzy and alive. From behind he felt a solid presence lean into his back and warm breath tickling in his ear. “Come with me,” it said.

Azira followed Stephen to a small clearing not far from the campsite. The older boy pointed up into the sky. “There’s Orion,” he stated. Azira followed his gaze and smiled. He and Crowley used to make up their own constellations when they were kids.

“It’s stunning,’ Azira said lazily. The alcohol thrummed through his veins and made him relax into the warm shoulder next to him.

“Not as stunning as you,” Stephen said, and then laughed. “Sorry, that was cheesy.”

Azira stared at the brunette, his blue eyes wide in the dark. “That’s okay. I mean, this is okay.” He floated forward, his eyes half-closing as Stephen kissed him. Stephen reached up to cradle his jaw and bent his head back before licking into the blonde’s mouth, eliciting a mutual groan. Azira felt like he was flying. He pressed one hand into the brunette’s chest when a branch broke somewhere behind them, breaking the mood. They both giggled.

“I should get back,” Stephen said with a grin. “I’m supposed to make hot dogs. You coming?”

Azira shuffled his feet in the grass. “In a sec.” He watched the older boy walk away, his cheeks flushed in exhilaration.

“Having fun?” Crowley’s voice rang out. Azira’s head snapped up, trying to track the direction it came from.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” the blonde asked adamantly. Crowley stepped into a shaft of light, his expression inscrutable.

“I could ask you the same,” the demon answered. “You didn’t even tell me you were leaving.”

“So? I don’t have to check in with you. I can do what I want!” Azira’s voice broke. The alcohol was making him emotional for some reason. He felt like he’d been caught out but he had nothing to apologize for.

Crowley stepped forward, folding his arms around his own skinny frame. “Yeah…I know.” His tone was off somehow. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the party or whatever. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Azira nodded, feeling ashamed. “I should have told you. I’m...I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting like this.”

“I guess I should go,” Crowley said dejectedly, and it hit Azira harder than it should have.

“Please don’t,” he said. He looked back at the campsite and frowned. “Do you want to...go for a walk with me? I think the lake’s nearby. It would be cool to see it from the other side.”

“It’s a few minutes from here,” Crowley agreed slowly. “This way.” He led the blonde through the darkness until the trees overhead gave way to the beachfront. Moonlight glittered off the surface of the water. They stared out from the shoreline and Azira wobbled unsteadily on his feet.

“Are you pissed?” Crowley accused with fondness in his voice. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you under the influence.”

Azira blew out all the air in his lungs. “Maybe. Wish we had more. Left it at the camp.”

The demon snapped his fingers and handed the blonde a bottle of red, cork already removed. Azira squinted at the offering before taking a few sips and moaning in appreciation.

“That’s so much better than whiskey. Here, you have some,” he offered. “I don’t want to drink alone.”

The pair spent the next several minutes sharing the bottle until Crowley had to summon another one. They crumpled down into the sand which was thankfully dry.

“Neat trick that,” Azira commented appreciatively. “Glad I can’t do miracles. I’d never do anything for myself again.”

“Psh,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Probably spend all day summoning ancient manuscripts and French brioche. Total waste of demonic powers.” Azira laughed harder than he should have, and ended up slumping on the redhead’s shoulder. Both of them were well on their way to being properly drunk.

Azira’s hand landed on Crowley’s leg. “Been meaning to ask you if um...the way you look, you know...is that part of your demonic nature?”

“Wha?” Crowley asked between sips of the fresh bottle.

“I mean,” Azira clarified, his hand squeezing as he tried to steady himself. “Is that why you’re so attractive? To lure and entrap humans?”

The redhead blinked so slowly that Azira wasn’t sure if he imagined it. “You think I’m…”

“Gorgeous,” Azira said, rolling the syllables out on his tongue. “Hot. Fffucking...tempt-ing.”

Crowley averted his eyes, gripping the bottle hard. “Ah.” He cleared his throat loudly.

“Do you like the way I look?” Azira asked, his boldness driven by inebriation. He fell backwards into the sand and laughed with abandon. He stared up at the demon with a lopsided smile. “Do you?”

Crowley shared in the smile but also kept looking away nervously. “You’re okay.”

“Okay?” the blonde huffed in offense before his voice softened. “I guess I can't compare with a demon.”

“No, that’s not...” Crowley went silent as if thinking very hard. “I mean...I do...like how you look.”

“Then why haven’t you seduced me?” Azira demanded jokingly, his hand coming up to bunch in Crowley’s hoodie and pulling him down slightly. “I’m a virgin ripe for the taking, yet you’ve never had your way with me. Other than that one night when, well…” The joke had somehow taken a jarring turn, and Azira’s face burned at the admission.

“Ngk,” Crowley choked on his wine and Azira let him go immediately. He covered his face with his hands.

“You’re drunk” the demon said quietly. Azira peeked through his fingers and saw his friend staring out at the water with a hard expression on his face. Crowley glanced down at him, his eyebrows drawn together. “Besides, don’t you like that guy anyways?”

Azira noticed his friend’s incisors had grown slightly longer, just a bit sharper. He propped himself up on his elbows and racked his brain for the boy’s name. “Stephen!” he said at last, as if he’d just answered a question on a game show.

For just a second, he glimpsed the naked emotion on Crowley’s face, like he’d just heard a particularly painful insult. It faded in an instant. Azira wondered what it would be like to kiss him until he smiled.

“I dunno,” the blonde recovered, biting his lower lip. He leaned in to grab for the bottle and Crowley, startled at the sudden movement, fell over in the sand. Azira fell with him and took an elbow to the chin before crumpling into a ball, half laughing and half crying out in pain. Crowley was leaning over him in a second, the bottle forgotten and leaking out onto the beach.

“Oh shit!” the redhead said in a panic. “Angel! Are you okay?” He grabbed at his friend’s face as he tried to examine him in the dark. A small smear of blood lingered at the edge of Azira’s mouth. He stared up, slightly dazed as his vision blurred. Red hair swung above him like a mobile, like it had done a hundred times before. It was comforting.

An unsteady hand reached up to cup Crowley’s face. “So beautiful,” he cooed before passing out stone cold.


	5. Chapter 5

Azira woke up slowly in his own bed. As his eyes came into focus he saw a pair of golden ones staring at him, looking painfully concerned. They seemed to melt as Azira finally stirred.

“Fuck,” the blonde groaned. “My head!”

“Hangover,” Crowley supplied. He was laying next to his friend on top of the covers. Azira wasn’t sure why that disappointed him.

“How’s the jaw?”

Azira flexed his mouth and felt a sharp twinge. “Ow.”

“Shit, sorry,” the redhead whispered as he held his hand to it and concentrated. Slowly the pain faded away. “Can’t do much for the hangover but…” He leaned away and came back with a glass of water. Azira managed to take a sip before curling into Crowley and moaning miserably. The demon stiffened slightly before relaxing, allowing his friend to cuddle into him.

“Crowley…” Azira said, his voice muffled in the redhead’s neck.

“Yeah?” Azira could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest and leaned into it.

“Remind me to never do that again.” Crowley just snickered as Azira fell back asleep again.

-

“There you are!” Stephen’s voice interrupted the daydream Azira was having as he ate his lunch on a garden bench on Sunday afternoon. He looked up and smiled awkwardly since his mouth was full.

“Where did you run off to the other night?” the brunette asked. “I was worried…”

“Sorry,” Azira said after swallowing. “Had a bit too much to drink and ended up wandering home. I’m fine, really.”

“Apparently,” Stephen laughed. “You’re something else, Azira. That’s a six mile walk in the dark. I envy your survival skills!”

Azira blushed and set his lunch aside. “Did you all have fun?”

“Too much,” Stephen acknowledged. “We were up til the sun rose and had a miserable trip coming back, so you didn’t miss out really. Though I wish you could have stayed…”

Azira gave him a tiny smile. “I’m not that exciting.”

Stephen hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Listen, Azira...I really like you. I was wondering if um...this sounds so stupid...do you think you might want to go out with me?”

“You mean like a boyfriend?” Azira asked, gobsmacked. No one had ever asked him out before.

“Well…” Stephen looked over his shoulder and back again. “Yeah. Secretly of course. The Brothers would not approve.”

“They certainly wouldn’t!” Azira agreed. He swung his feet from the bench and averted his eyes. “Could I...think about it?”

“Of course!” Stephen said with some relief in his voice. “All the time you need! I’ll uh...I’ll see you around, Azira.” He walked off with a huge smile on his face and Azira held his breath until the other boy was gone. He felt elated, scared, and even kind of...dissatisfied for some reason.

-

Azira was mending old Bibles in the chapel. He’d long given up on his altarboy dreams, having never pleased Father Gabriel. It was fine. He still enjoyed the menial chores he was allowed, and the peace of being in the church by himself. He was whistling when the demon popped up in one of the pews.

“Oh Lord…” Crowley said dramatically. “Heal this book.”

“Shut up,” the blonde said wryly. “What are you doing here?”

“Just dropped by to see how you were feeling,’ Crowley said as he leaned his arms over the bench in front of him. “Have you recovered from your drunken adventures?”

“I feel excellent,” Azira said a bit too cheerfully, gaining his friend’s suspicion.

“Oh yeah?” Crowley asked with interest. “And why is that?”

Azira tried to hide his blush behind a Bible but Crowley pushed it away.

“If you must know I’ve had an amorous invitation,” the blonde said in a clipped tone.

“A what?” the demon asked, perplexed.

“Um...Stephen asked me out,” Azira tried again. He glanced up at Crowley’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. The demon just stared at him for a minute before nodding slowly.

“And you said…?” Crowley prompted.

“I said I’d think about it,” Azira filled in, affecting an air of detachment.

Crowley smirked. “So you’re not sure about him.”

“I’m not sure if I want to get flogged by the Brothers if they catch us,” Azira corrected. “Stephen’s...nice.”

“Nice?” Crowley repeated with barely contained disgust.

“Yes, nice,” the blonde echoed. “A quality that some people find appealing.”

“I’m not a person,” the demon reminded him. “Besides, anyone can be nice.” His tone had definitely turned sulky.

“Oh?” Azira challenged and then provoked. “And what, pray tell, are the superior qualities a demon looks for in a relationship?”

Crowley’s face twisted in abject horror. “Relationship? Psh! Demons don’t ‘do’ relationships. But if I was pressed, and thinking about this from a purely human perspective, I would say cleverness and bravery far surpass niceness.”

“Really?” Azira smirked, enjoying their exchange. “And in this ‘purely human’ scenario, would you be opposed to displays of affection?”

Crowley’s eyebrow raised up in confusion.

“Holding hands?” the blonde suggested. “Making out? Pet names?”

The demon stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can’t even- I mean- Blech!”

Azira laughed heartily at his friend’s disconcerted face. “Well I’m sorry but that’s what humans do. I mean...you call me angel after all.”

“That’s…” Crowley sputtered. “That’s different! A joke from when we were kids. You know, demon and angel…” He quickly ran out of steam.

“Oh, okay,” the blonde giggled. He finished working on the Bibles and stacked them back neatly on the pew. When he looked up again, the demon was staring at him. “What?”

Crowley shrugged. “So you think you’ll go out with him?” His voice was quiet and tentative.

Azira wasn’t expecting the sincerity in his tone and didn’t know how to respond to it. “Do you think I should?” he asked finally.

“How should I know?” the redhead asked, suddenly cross.

“Crowley…” Azira began, but wasn’t sure where he’d intended to go with that. He sighed deeply instead. “I should get going. Dinner’s in an hour and I have more chores.” He walked out of the church without a backwards glance.


	6. Chapter 6

Father Gabriel’s fingers were steepled together, his elbows resting on the massive mahogany desk.

“Three months isn’t a long time,” he said. “You need to make preparations for your transition.”

Azira swallowed hard. With his eighteenth birthday on the horizon he was no longer a child - no longer a ward of St. Elysium. He’d talked at length to Stephen about the process, since his birthday was a few months ahead of his own. In fact, the older boy was set to move out of the orphanage in a week. The Brothers used the euphemism ‘leaving the nest.’

Azira ruminated on that while his eyes lingered on a thin piece of wood on the desk. It was carved with concentric squares and small dots in measured intervals.

“Is that a game?” the blonde asked, reaching for it.

Father Gabriel shoved a stack of papers over it and frowned at the boy. It was hard to imagine the priest having any kind of fun, let alone having a friend to play with.

“We’ve taken the liberty of setting up a job for you,” Father Gabriel redirected. “There’s an antique book dealer in London who could use another set of hands. Your work in the library has been substantial enough to earn you a place there at least temporarily.”

Azira’s eyes widened. He’d never expected to be placed somewhere he’d actually like. The priest noticed the expression on his face and offered a tenuous smile. “Take care, Azira,” he cautioned. “If you mess up you’ll be on your own. You can’t come back to the orphanage, after all.”

The blonde nodded his understanding.

“Remember that the Lord has a plan for us all,” Father Gabriel said. “But some are more intricate than others.” He took a worn book of religious essays out of his desk and handed it to Azira. “A little something to help you remember to follow the path and Her grace. That will be all.”

The priest dismissed him with a wave of his hand and Azira went willingly.

-

That evening he snuck out of the house with Stephen. They walked along the shoreline of the lake in near silence. The older boy’s departure had struck him particularly hard. Although they’d never officially started a romance there had always been an undercurrent of attraction between them. Now it seemed like they’d never get the chance.

“I’m going to the States,” Stephen had told him. “And I’m never going to look back again.” Azira could hardly blame him.

Suddenly Stephen halted their walk and leaned in, dipping Azira back and claiming his mouth passionately. Azira could hardly believe it was happening, let alone respond to it. Stephen sensed his hesitation and stepped back.

“Sorry,” the older boy said. “Got carried away.”

Azira sat stunned for a moment before replying, “Don’t be sorry.” He moved in and kissed Stephen back this time, and the two fell down on the beach, a tangle of tongues and limbs. Azira’s mind went wild with overstimulation, and he couldn’t help but think of someone else he wanted even more. Selfishly, he allowed his brain to carry out the fantasy of being with his best friend instead.

He kissed down Stephen’s neck and fisted his hands in his t-shirt, revealing the brunette’s toned stomach. His lips trailed down the flesh as his hands worked furiously with the zip on Stephen’s pants. He sat back on his heels as the zipper finally relented, but a movement in the shadows drew his attention toward the treeline.

“Fuck,” Stephen spat. “Do you think that’s one of the Brothers?”

He jumped up and grabbed Azira’s hand, the two sprinting away from the shore and back toward the orphanage by another route. They ended up behind a large woodpile, trying to restrain their heaving laughter.

“I thought a lightning bolt would strike us!” Stephen howled.

“That would be the least of our troubles,” Azira gasped. “More likely a pit to Hell would have opened beneath us.”

Stephen leaned in and kissed him gently before pressing his lips to his forehead. “Well...I guess we’ll never know. I’ll be sorry to leave you Azira. I wish we could have spent more time together.”

Azira had the sudden realization that they were saying goodbye, even days out from Stephen’s departure. He forced a smile and nodded back at the brunette. “Good luck Stephen.” By coincidence or not, he didn’t see him again before he left.

-

Azira’s last several weeks at St. Elysium were extremely troubling. He hadn’t seen Crowley at all in that time, which meant they hadn’t discussed what would happen next. They were supposed to meet up after his conversation with Father Gabriel, but Crowley never showed. It had occurred to Azira that their entire friendship had carried out on the grounds of the orphanage, and he had no idea if his friend was able to travel out much further. Did demons have specific ‘territory’ they were bound to?

He was still fretting when he was quite literally packing his bags. In a final effort, he staked out all of their usual hideouts to no avail. It wasn’t like he could ask anyone else... Crowley had never revealed himself to any of the other boys. Feeling morose and abandoned, Azira had no other option but to leave.

Still, he held hope in his heart as he stepped into the taxi waiting for him in the long circle drive. He threw in his simple canvas bag and buckled his seatbelt before staring back up at the somber building that had been his home for twelve years. Fog was rising up and creeping over the ivy that clung to its old brick walls. A few boys were waving from the dimly lit windows above.

Azira’s eyes tracked back and forth, hoping to glimpse a flash of red hair in one of them. Maybe Crowley would just appear next to him as he’d always done in the past. Maybe he...maybe he would… Azira blinked and was surprised to feel tears spilling down his cheeks. The taxi’s engine started and the car began to move. It was then that he knew for sure. Crowley wasn’t coming. Crowley was simply gone.

-

“And how would you describe that feeling?” Dr. Device asked. The pencil in her hand moved smoothly across the paper in her lap.

“Scared,” Azira supplied. “Alone.”

Dr. Device nodded and stared at him thoughtfully. “Six is a very young age to lose your parents, Azira. It was bound to bring about some...complications. Intimacy is just one of them.”

“It’s not intimacy per se,” Azira clarified. “I can um...be intimate? It’s getting closer on a uh...deeper level.”

“An emotional bond,” Dr. Device suggested. “Something beyond a three month relationship?”

Azira dragged a heavy hand through his curls. “What did you call it before? Attachment disorder?”

“You’ve made incredible progress,” the doctor reminded him.

“Um...it’s been five years since we started, Anathema. We keep rehashing the same old history. How long is this supposed to go on, exactly?” Azira didn’t mention the hundreds of pounds he’d also spent on therapy.

“It’s different for everyone,” she replied. “And I think you need to give yourself credit where it’s due. For example, it’s been years since you talked about-”

Azira’s hands were up in the air before she could finish her sentence. “Right,” he said tightly.

The doctor tapped her pencil on the notepad a few times before trying again. “The fact that you have maintained your real, lived experience is worth celebrating. How are you doing on medication?”

“Full up,” the blonde answered. He realized in the moment he’d forgotten to take his pills that morning and rubbed his face guiltily.

“Good,” she said. “You know where to find me if you need more. Well...our time is up for today. I’ll see again next week?”

Azira nodded morosely, surreptitiously hiding the roll of his eyes. “As always.”

-

London’s busy streets were a stark contrast to the hermetic seal of Dr. Anathema’s office. She must have invested in heavy sound-proofing to prevent the ceaseless traffic noises from ruining her sessions.

Azira ambled along, his body soon sucked into the tide of workers moving about, starting and stopping as the crosswalks directed. Just another cog in the wheel, other than the fact that instead of a desk job, he got to return to his beloved book shop. He still grinned at the thought of it.

Since the original owner had died two years ago, Azira had taken over the business. It had a loft apartment on the second story, making his commute non-existent. Out of most Londoners, he’d really gotten a sweeter slice of the pie. And in Soho, of all places.

As he walked along his eyes were drawn to a group of commuters trying to board an overcrowded bus. A flash of too-bright hair almost made him stumble, but he quickly saw it belonged to a flamboyant woman who was obviously dying it.

“Stop it,” he said angrily. Once again, he thought of the neglected medicine on his kitchen counter.

He reached his home not long after and threw his things irreverently on the shop counter. Sometimes he was too knackered to wait until he’d shuffled upstairs. When he did reach the residential portion of his space he didn’t even bother to flick on the light. He was going straight to bed after all. After the medicine, his brain reminded him.

He let out a heavy sigh as he walked around the kitchen island and filled up a glass of water, finding his pills where he’d left them earlier that day. He stared at their varied shapes and sizes, like a pharmaceutical cocktail.

“Cheers,’ he groaned, raising a handful to his mouth but stopping short. There was someone in his living room.

The kitchen opened out into the small space, just a couch and two chairs next to a battered table. It was the chair on the far right that was occupied. Azira slowly moved his hand toward the kitchen light and turned it on, his heart in his throat. The man sitting there wore immaculately tailored clothes, nearly skin-tight. One leg was draped over the arm while the other sprawled toward the blonde, wagging on its heel. The man leaned forward to reveal his unmistakable red hair, his eyes hidden behind a pair of designer sunglasses.

“Hello Azira,” he said quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

Azira felt like he’d been hit with a brick, and his body followed suit. He stared down at the floor for a moment before looking back up, his eyes locked on Crowley. He began to shake and could feel a sob rising up in the back of his throat but he swallowed it down as he slammed his fist on the kitchen counter. After a moment of quiet meditation he swallowed his pills and walked into his bedroom.

Crowley stood up and followed him, leaning on the doorframe. “That didn’t go quite how I expected,” he said lightly.

Azira was brushing his teeth and pulling back the covers on his bed, absolutely refusing to look at the redhead. The demon watched him shake his head a few times as if trying to clear water out of his ears before resuming his nighttime routine. He didn’t show any sign of modesty when he stripped out of his day clothes and pulled on a pair of matching striped pajamas, finally retreating to the bathroom to spit out his toothpaste.

“Are you ignoring me?” Crowley asked, incredulous.

Azira came back and sat in his bed, grabbing a book and settling in to read. He jerked as if he was going to address the redhead, but it turned out he was just looking for his reading glasses. He cleaned the smudges off of them before affixing them over the bridge of his nose.

“Oh that’s pretentious,” Crowley sniffed. “You don’t even need glasses!”

Azira’s face twitched but still, he said nothing.

Crowley walked over to the bed and sat on the far end. The dip in the mattress registered with the blonde, who at last showed some sign of emotion when his face fell into one of his hands. “Not real,” he whispered, as if calming himself. “Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.”

“Are you talking about me?” Crowley asked, making a show of looking around. “I’m very real, Azira. Is that what this is about? I thought you were just having an impressively passive aggressive go at me. But I’m...you think I’m in your imagination?”

Crowley slowly removed his sunglasses and scooted back against the headboard until he was right next to his old friend. “I’ve been a massive shit, I know. I left you with so much as an explanation. It was the cruelest thing I could have done. You don’t think I haven’t spent everyday in agony since then? Well I have… Do you have any idea what it takes to make a demon feel tortured?”

Azira dropped his book on the floor and drew his legs up, rocking back and forth on the bed. “Please stop. Please make it stop.”

“There’s nothing to stop, Azira!” Crowley cried out, his anger getting the better of him. “I’m right here! God, fucking bloody hell someone’s done a number on you! Let one of those Freudians in your head, I can tell. Useless as Scientologists, that lot.”

The redhead rolled off the duvet and came to stand in front of Azira before dropping to his knees. “Okay. I know I owe you an apology. A big, fucking, neverending apology. But I can’t do this without you anymore. I really can’t. Pills aside, brainwashing aside, our past aside...can you honestly tell me you can do it without me? Angel?”

Azira stopped rocking and peeked down at the demon, stared into his molten gold eyes brimming with tears. He looked away, up at the ceiling. “I have done," the blonde said. ‘For five years I have done. And now I’m getting better. I’m really getting better. I just have to do what Dr. Device tells me to do. And it will be okay. Everything will be okay.”

He steeled himself before pulling on the chord to his lamp, rolling over on his side, and pulling his duvet up over his head. Crowley slumped down, heels digging into his ass in defeat as he listened to the soft sobs of his dearest friend.

“Fine,” the demon said quietly. “Give up. Give up all you want. Because I won’t. I refuse to give up on you angel. I’ll...I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

Azira started his day the same way he’d done for the last few years. He brewed a strong cuppa, checked his mailing orders online, and eventually when he felt ready, flipped over the sign at the front of the shop. He was feeling better that morning after the hallucination the night before. He’d read that it could be a symptom of skipping doses, and he’d foolishly waited too long to take his meds. Never again, he’d be sure of that.

He was just taking stock of some new arrivals when one of his favorite customers walked in. The young man, Adam Young, was newly arrived in London from the countryside for his first year of college. He’d stumbled upon Azira’s shop one day while looking for the local library, and let the blonde know in no uncertain terms that his space was vastly preferable. With him came a gang of other first years known as The Them, bringing a certain liveliness to the otherwise quiet and somber store. In some ways Azira felt like he’d adopted the young people, even if they were only a handful of years younger than himself.

“Good morning Adam,” Azira greeted. “Pepper in tow?”

“Right behind me,” the young man smiled. “And Wensleydale. We’ve got a test on Thursday. Hope you don’t mind a quick study session?”

“You know you are always welcome,” Azira said pleasantly before returning to his work. He needed to catch up on filing his receipts before they piled up, which they were wont to do. He had just begun his work when his entire world flipped upside down once again. The bell rang and a familiar figure walked in, looking around with a slight frown on his face.

“Nonononono,” Azira deflated. He was absolutely certain he’d taken the correct dosage that morning. He reached for the landline. Perhaps an emergency visit with Dr. Device was in order.

Crowley waltzed in like he owned the place, sliding a single digit over the nearest shelf and grimacing at the dust. “It’s all at sixes and sevens,” he sang out. “But still very you.”

Following close on his heels, Pepper was the next to enter the shop, and went straight over to Azira before heading to the back room. “Hello Mr. Fell,” she said brightly. “Did my book come in?”

Azira looked up at her with wild eyes before seeming to collect himself, hanging up the phone on its receiver. “Oh...um, Pepper, yes of course. Let me just…” He turned around, digging in a pile of unsorted books and mail. “The Second Sex, yes?”

Pepper nodded as he handed it over, and she couldn’t help but notice the nervous twitch that accompanied the gesture.

“And now you’re proliferating liberal propaganda,’ Crowley noted loudly. “You’d have made a proper demon.”

Pepper turned on her heel, holding the book close to her chest. “Thank you Mr. Fell.” She began to stride past Crowley but turned at the last minute. “And, it’s not liberal propaganda,” she tutted. “It’s an existential view of second-wave feminism.” She scanned the redhead up and down before finishing, “Probably right up your alley.”

On that note, she started to walk on but was recalled by Azira, his face a study of extreme anxiety. “Excuse me, Pepper, my dear!”

She marched back to the shopkeeper with a winning smile on her face. “Yes?”

Azira fiddled with his bowtie and yanked on his vest to smooth it down. “Do you um...do you see the gentleman standing over there? I believe you just spoke to him.”

Pepper glanced over at Crowley again. “Uh...yep?”

“C-can,” Azira was losing his ability to speak. “Can you describe him to me, my dear, if you please?”

She screwed up her eyebrows as if the blonde had gone insane, but continued to play along. “Okaaay. Um, tall, dodgy redhead. Bit flash.”

Crowley was slinking closer to them, hands in his pockets. “Bit of a dish,” he corrected.

Pepper rolled her eyes. “According to some, perhaps.”

“Oh my god,” Azira’s hands were starting to shake. “Pepper...ask him his name. Please.”

The girl looked at the demon, wondering what the hell this was all about. “Your name?” she asked expectantly.

Crowley smiled easily. “Go by Anthony J. Crowley these days, at your service!”

Pepper turned toward Azira. “You heard that Mr. Fell? He says his name is-”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. Azira had fainted dead away.


	8. Chapter 8

Azira opened his eyes and found The Them standing over him looking quite concerned.

“Oh dear,” the blonde complained. “I had the biggest-”

Crowley’s head popped into the huddle with a huge smile on his face. “Revelation that you’re not completely insane?”

Azira scrambled up and back into the closest bookshelf, his eyes on the demon. “I don’t...I can’t!”

Adam took a step forward. “Mr. Fell, is this guy bothering you? You seem very upset. I’ll ask him to leave, if you like.”

“Rude,” Crowley commented.

“You can see him?” Azira asked. “You can...all see him?”

The students looked at each other and then back at the bookseller. Each nodded or affirmed in their own way.

“Okay,” Azira said blandly, the fight going out of him. “Okay.”

“Um, listen kids...gang? Humans? Whatever. I just need a moment alone with our friend here, if you don’t mind. We have some grownup things to talk about. If Azira...Mr. Fell I guess? needs any help he’ll scream for it. Sound good?” Crowley finished his speech feeling very accomplished.

Adam and his friends merely shrugged. “Please take care Mr. Fell,” Adam said, suspiciously eyeing Crowley as they left the shop to give them the necessary privacy.

The demon watched them go before turning to Azira and extending his hand. “I won’t bite,” he promised.

Azira stared at the hand for a long minute, eventually reaching out and allowing himself to be yanked up into a standing position. Their hands remained locked together despite this accomplishment. Azira was staring at the demon in absolute wonder.

“They could see you,” he said.

“Ah, yes. That. Always been a choice on my part, you know,” Crowley informed him. “I’ve loosened up over the last few years. Needed visibility for work, you know. Demon things, of course.”

“Your work...as a demon?” Azira asked.

“Yes.”

“But you are a demon.”

“Your point?”

“It’s like if I said I worked as a human and I am a human,” Azira argued. “Makes no sense.”

“Look,” Crowley rebounded, “This isn’t going to make sense all at once. There’s a lot I never told you and even more has happened since then. I’m going to have to fill you in, angel.”

“Ah.” Azira nodded. He was feeling not exactly comfortable with the demon, but certainly more accepting of his existence. He took a deep breath and nodded again. “Alcohol?”

“Oh bloody hell yes,” Crowley agreed.

-

Azira flipped his sign to ‘closed.’ He poured two heaping glasses of red and sat near the fire, Crowley opposite him on the settee.

“Well,” the blonde sighed. “Where shall we begin?”

The demon leaned back on the settee, his glass dangling between two fingers. Azira couldn’t help but notice how well he’d grown into his frame, all lanky legs and sharp angles. He was even more beautiful than he remembered.

“You recall when we first met,” Crowley said. It wasn’t a question, so Azira merely inclined his head. “I always thought it was strange when I confessed my true nature to you. Of course you were a little scared, but we squared things away rather quickly. And you never asked me about it again.”

“So?” Azira prompted.

“So someone tells you they are a demon, and you just go with it?” Crowley was wearing his sunglasses indoors which made it incredibly difficult to read his expression. Azira assumed that was intentional. He’d always had the most emotive eyes.

“I would have had a lot of questions is my point,” he went on. “But you never did. Not even later on, other than a few superficial things. Never ‘So what’s Hell like?’ or ‘Where do we go when we die?’ or even ‘Where do you go when you’re not around?’ Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Azira took this in thoughtfully. “It wasn’t that I didn’t wonder, Crowley. I just assumed you’d tell me what you wanted in your own time, if you ever would. Seemed a bit rude to pry.”

“Pry?” the demon asked, flabbergasted. He downed his drink and held it out for more, which Azira gladly poured for him. “Prying is what you do with strangers, angel. We were hardly that.”

“No! No, exactly!” Azira said, feeling defensive. “I just...implicitly trusted you. Enjoyed your company. You make it sound bad.”

“It’s not bad,” Crowley argued. “It’s bizarre! I only realized it when I started to meet new people, through work and all that. And then it was Question City everywhere I went!”

Something he’d said had thrown off shrapnel, an unintentional grenade. Azira was fidgeting with his bow tie and staring into the fire. “Yes. I can only imagine. When you went away...”

“Fuck,” Crowley said under his breath. He wasn’t ready for this yet.

“I didn’t um…” Azira hummed to himself before continuing. “You see that was my worst fear, you know. After I’d lost everything...everyone. I wasn’t alone for that long but it was enough. Then there you were, and you said we were friends. You um...you became my world, I suppose. I never would have- I never could have risked losing you. I didn’t want to do anything wrong. Ask too many questions, you see.”

Crowley didn’t have anything to say to that. Azira had loved him unconditionally because he’d feared the demon would abandon him. The admission broke whatever fragment of a heart the demon had left and then some. He pushed his glasses up on his nose to disguise the tears. “Well...fuck.”

Azira’s face remained passive, if not a bit tired. Crowley didn’t have to ask how many tears he’d cried after he’d gone. It was obvious that the blonde didn’t have any left, perhaps for a lifetime. How did this get so heavy so quickly? And why hadn’t he expected exactly that? It had only ever been the two of them, after all. They shouldn’t have parted in the first place.

“Dear me,” Azira recovered. “You did say you wanted to fill me in, so to speak. What was it that you wanted to share?”

Crowley stiffened in his chair. When did Azira get so bloody formal? He’d always been a little uptight, but this was much more exaggerated. How many people had he known? Been influenced by? Loved…? He couldn’t tolerate that last thought, so he banished it into the ether. He was supposed to be answering a question.

“My um...duties as they are,” he began. “Usually minor temptations, trying to get people to come to the dark side, if you will.”

“You mean sending souls to Hell,” Azira interrupted. His face had gone a bit pale.

“Y-yes, um. That is the nature of my work,” Crowley said uncomfortably. He hadn’t had to explain it to any non-demonic beings for quite some time.

“And your work brought you here?” Azira asked pointedly. “Why?”

“Recently I’ve taken up a more important assignment,” the demon explained. “Way more important than any I’ve had before.”

“Oh,’ the blonde exclaimed before taking another drink. “Sounds serious.”

“Er, yes, it is,” Crowley agreed. “Recently the uh...well you know…lower downs...” He pointed to the ground and mimed a frightening expression at the same time. “Have come across some interesting information. There have been rumors that there’s an angel here on earth. Now, this wouldn’t be totally unusual, as both angels and demons are sent here for various reasons, but there’s been an imbalance of good and evil lately favoring our side, and this is the first angel to show up in the last several centuries.”

He waved his wrist in a circle in the universal gesture for ‘et voila.’

“Problem here is, this particular angel. It looks like You Know Who made a big mistake during its creation. Instead of popping into Heaven, harp and wings and all, this one showed up on Earth with no particular knowledge of its divine origin.”

“A celestial amnesiac?” Azira asked, playing along.

“Right,” Crowley affirmed. “Lost in delivery. Now this is part of...what’s the best way to explain...a Hail Mary play for Hell? You see, if we could tempt this angel to our side, we’d have one over on Yahweh, maybe be able to send it back into Heaven like a ticking time bomb or some such. And that’s where I come in, as the master of temptation. That’s how I got my new job.”

“Okay,” the blonde said steadily. “Sounds...nefarious. I suppose I should wish you luck or something.”

“I wouldn’t,” Crowley said, a cringe forming on his face. “You see...I have particular reason to believe that you are that angel, angel.”

Azira stared at him for a moment. All air escaped the room. And then he began to laugh. Not just laugh, like chuckles and grins, but spasmodically. He literally fell out of his armchair and convulsed on the floor, wine sinking into the Persian carpet.

For the second time in less than forty-eight hours, Crowley groaned inwardly. “That didn’t go quite how I expected either,” he muttered.


	9. Chapter 9

Dr. Device moved a few appointments around to accommodate Mr. Fell, as it had sounded quite urgent over the phone. When he arrived, she immediately took note of his rising panic and generally agitated state. Before he even sat down he began to spew forth an increasingly concerning list of delusions.

“So you’re saying that with Crowley the demon’s return, you’ve learned you have a pivotal role in the future balance of good and evil on Earth because you are in fact, a secret angel that he intends to corrupt because Satan told him to. Do I have that right, Azira?” The doctor was feverishly writing on her notepad until the pencil broke.

“Uh...yeah,” the blonde said. “Also, I won’t be needing my medications anymore.”

“I’m assuming you haven’t been taking them for a while?” she asked in her most non-judgemental tone.

“That’s right,” Azira confirmed. “Don’t have to now that everyone can see Crowley. They couldn’t before. He was invisible.”

“Uh huh,” Anathema said.

“I guess we don’t really need to meet anymore either,” the blonde continued. “I just thought it would be better to tell you in person.”

“Makes sense,” the doctor agreed. “It sounds like the next logical step. Only...Azira? I’m wondering if we could possibly explore some of these ideas a little bit more. Now, has Crowley asked you to do anything for him? Perhaps harm yourself or others?”

“Oh, no!” Azira objected. “He’s not like that. Well...he might do bad things, I’m not quite sure.”

“But if he’s stated that his job is to sway you to the dark side...what do you think that means?” she pushed on.

“It is his assignment,” Azira explained, “But he’d never force me into anything. No, he told me that he means to protect me from the other demons, actually. So we might have to hurt them if they attack us. I’m not sure how that works.”

“The...other demons. Yes, of course,” the doctor replied. “Okay. So let me tell you what’s going to happen Azira. There are limits to confidentiality, and in some cases a professional may determine that there is significant danger to oneself or-”

A knock came at the door, interrupting her sentence, and a handsome redhead popped into the room. “Hello!” he said with a dazzling smile. “So sorry for barging in, I’m just here to pick up Azira. He’s been having a rough day, isn’t that right?”

Azira popped up from the couch and smiled. “I’m feeling much better actually-”

“Yep,” Crowley assented. “You look great. Not like a crazy person at all. Now, if you can just…” He made eye contact with Anathema and snapped his fingers. She looked dazed for a moment and blinked slowly.

“Great!” the demon said. “That’s done then. Let’s pop down the street to that cafe you like, angel. I’ve heard they have amazing brioche.”

“I love brioche!” the blonde agreed happily. He stood to walk out with Crowley. “But...not as much as I love you.” He grabbed the demon’s face and kissed him passionately. And then he woke the fuck up.

-

Azira nearly hit his face on Crowley’s forehead when he bolted up from the bed in the middle of the night. The demon was hovering over him and squeaked in surprise, causing Azira to shout. A hand came down over his mouth and a weight settled over his body.

“Angel!” Crowley said urgently. “It was just a dream! You’re safe. I’ve got you!”

Azira’s heart was pounding out of his chest. “I went insane,” he said, his voice still panicked. “I actually believed everything that you told me.”

“It’s okay, shh now,” the demon soothed. “I know I went a little too fast for you yesterday. That was very, very stupid of me. I promise we are going to take this slow from now on. We’ll figure everything out together. Step by step.”

Azira squirmed under him until he realized how lovely it was to be weighed down. Crowley was basically crushing him but it made him feel more tangible, more real.

Something seemed to occur to Crowley and he rolled off to one side, still firmly pressed against his friend.

“I just realized I didn’t ask,” he began, looking around. “Do you live here alone?”

“Yeah,” Azira answered, as if it were obvious. “Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t know if Stephen moved in,” the demon said quietly. “Figured he would have.”

Azira stared at him. “Who?”

Crowley squirmed under his scrutiny. “Uh...Stephen? Your boyfriend?”

Azira looked genuinely perplexed and his eyes drifted to the ceiling in deep thought. “You mean...from St. Elysium?” he ventured. It was the only Stephen he could think of, and even then the memory was fuzzy.

Crowley squirmed harder, feeling like he’d just made a colossal blunder. “Er, yeah?”

Azira snorted and then turned on his side to face Crowley. “Wow. I haven’t thought about him in years. Wonder if he ever went to America?”

“Oh. S-sorry it didn’t work out then,” the demon said guiltily.

“Work out?” the blonde asked, perplexed. “Crowley, we were never together. In fact, nothing ever really happened between us. I mean, we kissed a few times… Once...oh I’d forgotten. We almost got kind of uh...frisky on the beach before he left...but that didn’t end up happening either. Nice guy though. That’s so funny you thought I ended up with him. I guess demons don’t know much about human nature though, right?”

Crowley didn’t say anything. He was staring at the wall.

“Are you okay?” his friend asked. A hand cupped the redhead’s jaw to tilt his head down, and Crowley held it fast on his cheek. He’d set his sunglasses on the side table, leaving his eyes exposed. He prayed that Azira wouldn’t read what was inside of them, but the blonde had always been a quick study.

“Crowley?” Azira asked, his voice trembling. “Is that why you left me? You thought...did you think I was replacing you?”

Crowley bit back a sob and turned his head into the pillow. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he chided, but the strain in his voice was evident.

Azira was on to him, and the demon was an absolute idiot to not see what was coming next.

“You left me,” Azira repeated, his tone as solid and as cold as ice. “You abandoned me. Over an assumption.”

Crowley’s head jerked up. He’d never heard his friend’s voice on the knife’s edge of wrath. His tears quickly dried up in the face of it.

“Twelve years, Crowley,” the blonde shook with the declaration. “We did everything together. You were my family.”

“You were mine,” the demon said weakly.

“Don’t,” Azira warned. Their bodies were still touching but they were a million miles away from each other. “Don’t do that. You know what that word means to me.”

Crowley knew. He knew that by definition families didn’t end under any circumstance. Not in Azira’s world.

“We were children,” Crowley countered, already pushing up and away.

“We grew up, together,” Azira emphasized.

“But I was never human!” Crowlry defended, his voice rising. “Don’t act like you didn’t know that. I was never perfect like you, okay? I was inherently flawed! You have no idea what it’s like to be filled with vitriol and self-doubt and waste from the start! I was molded by Satan for fuck’s sake! Yet you always expected me to behave like I had a choice, like I could be better than that.”

“Because you did. Because you could,” Azira argued.

“No!” Crowley was yelling now. “No! And that’s exactly the point! I am anger and jealousy and all of the basest things anyone can be! The only time I even felt remotely good was when I was around you, but even you couldn’t save me! In fact, you’re the one who-”

He broke off, gasping for breath and realizing how dangerously close he’d come to saying something real. Something he could never take back.

“It was me,” Azira finished for him. “My fault, right?” His voice sounded dead and hollow and Crowley hated that. “Because I fancied some boy? Because you thought I’d move on and leave you behind, even after everything we’d been through.”

It was and it wasn’t that. There was so much more to the story but Crowley would never have the courage to say it. So he stood up instead.

“Time to run already?” Azira asked, his voice spiteful. “Well run. Run away like you always do. It’s about time you did.”

Azira turned over in his blanket, wrapping himself up like a cocoon. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting...but it wasn’t what happened next. The rough grasp on his arm that boldly yanked him over. The strength there, belying how much strength, and deadly at that, the demon possessed. The firey eyes that didn’t waver, didn’t blink. The fangs that protruded and gleamed above him. The grating voice that shook Azira to his core with one unyielding word…

“No.”


	10. Chapter 10

Crowley was seventeen again, or the approximation of a seventeen year-old human in demon form. It was Azira’s birthday and he’d been planning to give him the key to the rare books cabinet for weeks. Every time he’d looked at the blonde he could feel its small weight in his pocket, burning with the anticipation of invoking that surprised smile that existed only for him.

“Oh...Crowley,” Azira had breathed. In an instant he’d turned toward the demon and planted a quick kiss on his lips before drawing away.

And that was the first time Crowley’s powers did something without his express permission. His friend froze in place, the soft glow on his cheeks emitting a strange warmth. Crowley reached up to stroke the skin there, and marveled when Azira didn’t blink. He looked up and saw a dust mote hovering in the air. How was this possible?

More importantly, he remembered his own lips and forced them together, licking the interior. Azira. Crowley tasted like him. His whole scent pervaded the demon’s body and he inhaled greedily. He leaned in again, unable to resist the temptation to kiss the blonde once more. His lips pressed to the pliant ones of his best friend, still unmoving. He stepped back to get a hold of himself, hardly believing his own actions.

Time unfroze in that inconvenient moment and the blonde carried on.

“Um… Thank you. Really, thank you.” He turned toward the shelf and Crowley thought he was discorporating. A pull that began in his navel traveled all the way up to his chest and squeezed relentlessly. He transported himself away immediately, lest his best friend have to watch him die. But of course, he didn’t.

That night Crowley came back to Azira, his mind still buzzing with internal voices both supporting and contradictory of his feelings. As he watched the blonde fumbling under the sheet and asked him what he was doing another overwhelming sensation came over him. Lust and all its implications stumbled through the open door his heart had created. And he gave in to it like a glutton at a banquet. Reveled in the feeling of Azira’s eager flesh in his hand, the close proximity of their breaths, the sound of his own name pushing out of the vulnerable blonde who offered this gift to him and only him. And that was it for the demon. He was done for.

Crowley had been confused in the weeks and months that followed, as nothing like that night repeated itself in the aftermath. He’d expected Azira to initiate something - anything! But it never happened. Instead his friend seemed to drift toward other people like Stephen, began experimenting with the human as an alternative. The night Crowley had seen them on the beach, well...he made his choice. One that would follow him like a shadow for years. He’d cut Azira out of his life because he couldn’t bear the pain of watching him love somebody else. And yet, he’d been left with a different kind of agony that festered like an untreated wound. That wound was gushing now - during the second occurence of the demon inadvertently stopping time.

Azira had told him to go, dared him to run with his tail between his legs, and oh isn’t that what the demon had been doing all this time? He wasn’t going to run anymore.

“No,” he repeated as all the clocks in the world resumed.

“What the hell do you want, Crowley?” Azira whined angrily, that tone that always set the demon’s teeth to grinding, but not this time.

“This,” Crowley answered swiftly. He closed the scant distance between them and forcing himself to breathe in shakily, pressed his lips to Azira’s the way he’d done when there were no consequences. Of course, now there were so he detached quickly, searching his friend’s eyes to make sure he hadn’t gone too far, that he wasn’t unwanted.

Azira blinked up at him, and it was the only sign that Crowley hadn’t stopped time once more.

“I did everything wrong,” the redhead expressed in a rush. “All of it. I was self-centered and heedless and I punished you when you didn’t deserve it. I’m a fuckhead and a moron and I’ll beg if you want me to, on my knees and everything. What I want, ALL I WANT is you, in whatever form you’ll have me. But please don’t tell me to go. Never ask that of me. Because you might have moved on but it was always you for me, angel.”

His voice broke and he was sobbing, reduced to the goddamned pathetic pile of goo that he’d always been behind the cool facade. He had more words to say, he had more words he NEEDED to say if only he could get to them. In spite of his frustration he was enfolded by a pair of arms that pulled him close and held him like he was worth holding. Crowley sniffled and chased that feeling.

“Shh,” Azira’s nurturing instinct took over. “Sh, now. I was harsh just then, I know.”

Crowley snuck a glance up at the blonde and was immediately chastised. “I’m not saying I’m not angry, Crowley,” Azira followed up quickly before his tone softened. “But I’m not going to punish you forever either. I don’t have the energy.” He sighed loudly though his grip on the demon never waned.

“We both have a lot of healing to do,” the blonde added. “And I, for one, need more time to do it. Can you understand that?”

The demon nodded vigorously and bit his lower lip to keep from saying anything to ruin the moment. He was with his angel, and wrapped up with him besides. That was more than enough for now. He snuggled closer and hid his face in Azira’s chest, listening to the sound of his breathing, which eventually slowed and evened out. Crowley laid awake even as the sun glared low in the window and the birds began to sing, just to count the breaths.

-

“God doesn’t fuck up,” the archangel Gabriel corrected. He placed the first of his nine men on the board.

Beelzebub watched him closely and pinched the black playing piece in her hand, setting it adjacent to the white one he’d laid on the outer square. “Did this time,” she countered.

Gabriel fixed the Prince of Hell with a pitying gaze, his violet eyes darkening into a muddy plum. “You need to believe that, don’t you? Tell me, how does faith work for the Fallen?”

“It’s your turn,” she prompted impatiently. The archangel moved another piece to the board, this time on the middle square. “And we don’t call it faith,” she said as she played her turn. They went back and forth a few times until Beelzebub blocked him from forming a mill.

“What do you call it?” Gabriel asked, pretending he wasn’t annoyed. He studied the board with his chin on his fist before going again.

Beelzebub smiled widely. Her next move formed a mill and she captured one of Gabriel’s men, setting it on the table by her side. “Instinct,” she replied. She crossed her legs and her companion tracked the movement, his gaze lingering on her fishnet ankle socks.

The archangel frowned. “Instinct,” he huffed.

The prince paused, waiting until Gabriel had finished his move. “Tell me, archangel...how long have we been playing this game?” She formed a second mill and swiped another of his pieces.

“Forever,” he said glumly. “No...since Ramses.”

“19th Dynasty?” she clarified. He nodded. He had seven men left. “And when was the last time you won?”

Gabriel scowled at Beelzebub. “Before 33 AD, like you don’t know.”

“It is hard to forget,” she conceded. “But my point stands. Someone’s been letting you down. Is it so hard to believe She’d do it again?” They went a few more rounds and it was obvious the archangel was going to lose, only a few men remaining.

He leveled her with a glare. “You’re an asshole, Beelzebub.”

She straightened in her seat, eyes wide with surprise and delight. “Thank you!” Feeling generous, she looked at his blue-gray jacket and smiled. “I like the coat.”

Gabriel glanced up at her before looking back at the board to make his move. “Thanks,” he grumbled before perking up, flicking a speck of lint off one sleeve. “It’s Armani.”

Beelzebub pursed her lips before swiping up the last of his men.

-

Nine Men’s Morris was an old game, but the version played on the celestial plane was not inert like the one enjoyed by multiple human cultures over thousands of years. This version had real-world repercussions that upset the natural balance of good and evil on earth. The rules of the game and its outcome were agreed upon by both parties to resolve the ongoing problem of forces ‘cancelling each other out’ in exceedingly futile confrontations. Neither side would have ever admitted it was ‘an arrangement’ as such and certainly any outsider would have commented at their peril that Gabriel and Beelzebub looked forward to their time together. Otherwise why make the deal at all? Gabriel had lost frequently, and for quite some time (at least by human measures).

Beelzebub’s most recent win allowed for the placement of a new demon on earth, which brought her up to six agents. Gabriel had no representatives presently, other than the rumored ‘rogue’ angel that he denied existed. Beelzebub didn’t believe it for a second. God moved in mysterious ways (She’d hatched stranger plans before) and the archangel had a terrible poker face. No indeed, if there was an angel on earth Beelzebub’s agents would find it. Another point for Satan, and a hell of a lot more satisfactory than winning a board game.


	11. Chapter 11

“I expect we’ll be resuming our conversation about your wild theory at some point,” Azira mentioned as he fried up a few eggs for breakfast.

Crowley sat in a creaky wooden chair. It sighed and wailed every time he fidgeted, which was often. How did Azira live amongst all of these antiques? It aged him, made him seem fifty when he was barely twenty-three.

“Well,” the demon croaked. “Probably sooner than later. If I’m right, there’s going to be a few demonic bounty hunters sniffing around. Would hate for them to get the jump on us.”

“Ah, yes,” Azira said, adding bacon to the pan and leaning back to avoid the molten backsplash. “And how does one go about testing for angelic stock?”

“That’s the difficult part,” Crowley admitted. “Any ordinary angel is obvious to a demon. There’s a particular scent that alerts us. If there were an angel nearby I would know. I used to smell it all the time when we were kids. That’s why when we first met I asked if you were an angel. Still haven’t puzzled that out...and I can’t smell anything now. But I think my first instincts were right.”

The demon stared as Azira brought his sizzling pan over and scooped an egg on the empty plate in front of him. “Er...thanks. Don’t really eat, though.”

The blonde’s blue eyes widened and then he smiled. “Ah yes. How easily one forgets.”

“I won’t turn down a cup of black coffee,” Crowley hinted, staring at the freshly brewed pot on the warmer. Azira busied himself with that and prompted the demon to continue.

“So...that leaves us with few options to uncover the truth,” he went on. “For one, I could take you to the point of humanly death, let’s say drown you in a pool or smother you with a pillow.”

The blonde’s face twisted into a horrible grimace.

“You wouldn’t die!” Crowley interjected. “We’d know you were an angel because you wouldn’t need air.”

“And you’d know I wasn’t when you murdered me,” Azira argued. “Out of the question!” He finished fixing his breakfast and sat across from the redhead, sliding him the requested coffee mug in the process.

“Crowley, you know I don’t buy into this,” he said calmly.

“Obviously,” the demon stated. “But there are some strange discrepancies. For example, your parents.”

“What about them?” Azira asked before digging into his eggs.

“Remind me what you know about them,” Crowley directed.

His friend shrugged and stared out of the kitchen window. “My mother was a painter. I remember her making nature scenes. Animals, mostly. My father...I don’t think he was around much. Maybe he was a doctor or something that kept him away. It’s gotten fuzzier the older I get.”

“And what happened to them?” the redhead asked softly.

“Car crash,” Azira said automatically. “They told me there was a drunk driver. Came to St. Elysium just days after since I had no other family.”

“An accident you were only told about. No family,” Crowley repeated. “No grandparents, aunts, cousins, no nothing. An absent father. Your mother, a creator. The Creator.”

“Don’t be silly,” the blonde chuckled.

“How did it feel when you lost Her?”

Azira searched his friend’s eyes, but there was no cruelty in them. He hesitated before sighing deeply. “Sad, of course.”

“Not just sad,” Crowley went on, his own expression pained. “Ripped away like you’d been sucked out an airlock. Cold, as if She’d been the sole source of warmth in all the world. Worst of all, like an empty void left behind, a circulatory system with no heart to pump the blood.”

Azira stared at the demon, his hand trembling slightly on the table. He stilled it with some effort. “How do you know?”

Crowley smiled weakly. “Because that’s how I felt when I Fell. I was an angel once, of course. Demons don’t just pop up out of nowhere. You didn’t Fall though, which means your separation isn’t eternal. If you are what I think you are, the Divine resides within you. You’ve just never tried to find it.”

Azira pushed his plate aside, having uncharacteristically lost his appetite.

“Look, I know this is crazy,” Crowley added. “But is having a demon as your best friend any weirder?”

“Ha,” Azira smiled. “I’ll grant you that.”

A snap and a pop invaded the easy silence between them, a muted sound echoing up from the shop below.

“Stay here!” Crowley commanded. Azira rolled his eyes and followed him anyways, his fingers gripping the used frying pan. They padded quietly down the wooden steps and both peered into the dim room lined with books. The sounds were coming from the far side of the shop.

“Oh,” Azira sighed in relief as he located the source. The gramophone had turned itself on and was playing back distorted white noise, except...there was no record. The blonde’s relaxed features twitched as a buzzing voice filled the room. A few flies appeared in the air and Azira started to shoo them away before Crowley grasped his wrist.

“Report Crowley,” a woman demanded.

The demon wiped his free hand down his face looking partially relieved and annoyed. “Nothing as of yet,” he said in a deeper voice than usual. “It’s rather hard to track an angel off the grid.”

“Yes,” the woman agreed. “Which is why I’m sending ground support. You remember Hastur and Ligur?”

“Ugh, the Dukes,” Crowley said automatically. “They don’t even know what a computer is, Beelzebub!”

“They don’t need to,” her voice was sharp. “I’m stationing them in Paris for now. They’ll be nearby if you find anything.”

“Got it,” Crowley replied miserably. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Er…” Beelzebub hesitated. “Yes. Find out what an ARE-MAW-NEE is.”

The gramophone turned itself off, leaving Crowley and Azira to stare wide-eyed at each other.

-

About a week later Crowley and Azira were just starting to fall into a kind of routine. They would breakfast at home, lunch or have dinner at one of several Soho restaurants, and sometimes visit the ducks at St. James. Azira kept rather unusual hours in his shop, and never balked at an invitation to close up, even in the middle of a work day. The Them were the only regular customers, if one could call them that, and they typically called ahead to schedule their study sessions.

Crowley was relentless in his surveillance as well as his guardianship of his friend. He rarely left Azira alone other than to tend to infrequent ‘demon’ business, and as he had done in their youth, insisted on hovering above the bed to keep watch. Azira thought the redhead’s paranoia was reaching new heights when one day he spotted a shady looking figure in the park. The man locked eyes with Crowley and began to stride toward them.

“Shit,” the demon swore. “Listen angel, follow my lead. Whatever I do or say, act like it’s normal.”

Azira nodded with a curious expression as the man situated himself in front of Crowley, arms crossed and glaring hard.

“Ligur,” Crowley intoned.

“Hail Satan,” the man replied, his bright orange eyes flashing. They darted over to the blonde. “What’s this then?”

Crowley glowered at him. “It’s mine,” he hissed. “Go get your own seminarian to despoil.” He threw a protective arm around Azira and pulled him close.

“Tempting potential priests?” Ligur asked with a flicker of lust in his eyes. “Yummy.” He looked Azira up and down approvingly. “Have you taken him yet?”

“Oh, loads of times,” Crowley said grandly. “Isn’t that right, Father?”

Azira blinked at him before a lascivious look passed over his face and he bit his lower lip teasingly. “I prefer when you call me daddy,” he purred. Something in Crowley seemed to snap as he dipped his mouth toward the blonde’s.

“Don’t you just?” he breathed. Azira’s pulse picked up immediately.

“Another soul for Hell,” Ligur congratulated. He stepped forward a few inches and whispered in Azira’s ear. “Come find me when you arrive. I’ll be expecting you.”

He caught Crowley’s warning glance and held out his hands. “What? I’m a demon. Speaking of, have you had any luck locating the target?”

“I’ve had my hands full,” Crowley said pompously as he reached down and roughly grabbed a handful of Azira’s plump buttcheek. The blonde’s hips swung forward a bit on impact, but he maintained his composure. “You?”

“Nah,” Ligur groused. “Not sure how Beez expects us to get this done. Keep your eyes open…” He lingered for a moment, staring at the pair in front of him before finally moving on.

Azira started to relax but Crowley pulled him flush against him. “Kiss me,” the redhead commanded, his eyes sliding nervously toward the other demon’s back.

Azira only hesitated for a second before he melted into Crowley’s arms, pressing his lips to the redhead’s. The demon kissed him back, opening his mouth slightly and groaning when Azira slipped his tongue inside. Crowley stroked the blonde’s tongue with his own, savoring the taste of him. He drifted away only to suck on the sensitive skin of Azira’s earlobe. His breath was hot as it reverberated in the blonde’s ear. As he suspected, Ligur turned one more time before leaving the park. The two demon’s eyes met and Ligur nodded, satisfied at last.

For some reason Crowley couldn’t quite sate himself, and so dragged his teeth down Azira’s neck until his friend began to tremble. “Angel,” he breathed. At that moment an electric shock, as best as it could be described, surged through the redhead’s body. He drew back and gasped in time with Azira, whose eyes took on a green-gold hue as the sunlight hit them directly.

With a massive effort Crowley pulled away, both of them breathing hard.

“Alright?” Crowley asked, his amber eyes soft and searching. Azira didn’t miss the pointed tips of his canines flashing behind those rose-red lips.

“Yeah,” Azira answered dizzily, his imagination moving ten steps ahead of him. “Is that how you uh...usually tempt people?”

Crowley gave him a dazzling smile. “Oh no, absolutely not. Usually it’s just a glance and they’re set. But I had to play it up, you know. Ligur’s a bit thick.”

“Right,” Azira replied. He followed the other demon’s path with his eyes. “You sure he won’t come back?”

Crowley shrugged and then bit the tip of his tongue wickedly. “Haven’t had enough of me yet, daddy?” He asked with an emphasis on the last word.

Azira blushed from head to toe and turned on his heel in response. “Should get back to work,” he mumbled. Crowley followed behind him, hands jammed in his pockets and sauntering vaguely.

-

As the sun fell a chameleon crept across the well-kept grass of a French cemetery. Behind it the demon Ligur paced, looking between headstones until he found what he’d been looking for.

“He’s hiding something,” Ligur reported. “You don’t trust him, do you?”

Hastur clicked his tongue and frowned decidedly. He was laying in an open grave looking pensive. The frog on his head hopped down onto his chest. “No,” he replied.

Ligur grimaced in agreement before craning his head down into the hole. “Can I ask what you’re doin’ down there?”

Hastur stared up at him, his pale face reflecting in the moonlight. “Homesick,” he answered. “It’s either this or Lascaux.”

“Buck up,” Ligur demanded. “We finish this angel business and we’ll both get back to where we belong. I despise the human world.”

“Me too,” Hastur agreed as he held his frog in front of him, squeezing it a bit too tight. “Let’s go ruin it.”


	12. Chapter 12

Azira couldn’t get Crowley out of his head. The weight of his arm on his shoulder, the wet brush of his tongue in his mouth. It brought back memories of the night they’d shared together ages ago and short-circuited his brain. Right now the demon was sprawled on his stomach flicking through Azira’s LPs, an endless stream of commentary on his lips.

The blonde came nearer hesitantly, his eyes sweeping up and down Crowley’s lithe body. His hair was a firey cascade over his shoulder, leading his gaze to the tight black t-shirt that was riding up his lower back, revealing two perfect dimples above his pelvis. Just that small portion of creamy skin was intoxicating. He longed to push his hands under the fabric, to kiss up the arch of that spine, biting each vertebrae up to his long neck and burying his hard cock in the soft cleft of Crowley’s ass.

Crowley swiveled his head and looked up at Azira with a quirk at the side of his mouth. “Do you even own one rock album?” he was saying.

Azira made a noncommittal sound and the redhead continued to browse his collection, long, slim fingers sorting through them like a card catalogue. The blonde was drawn to the curve of his backside in those tight black jeans, those legs that went on for miles. Crowley bent them one by one at the knee, allowing them to dance in the air before toeing off his snakeskin boots. As they each landed on the floor Azira’s heart stuttered.

“I need to uh…” Azira’s voice fizzled out as he backed away. Crowley’s eyes were back on him, meticulously noting his odd behavior.

“Shower,” Azira finished. “Just um...make yourself at home.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow until the blonde was out of sight and then flipped onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He heard the water turn on, a sharp hiss that reverberated through the shop below. He closed his eyes as he picked up the sound of Azira humming nervously, and could even make out when the blonde stepped into the water, interrupting its steady beat on the tiled floor. The walls were paper thin.

Crowley imagined what would happen if he walked upstairs right then, pushing open the door to the bathroom and inviting himself to join Azira. The blonde’s mouth falling open in a perfect ‘o,’ of surprise, but his eyes darkening when he realized Crowley wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

His body twitched at the thought and at the same time, he heard a low hum from the shower that was definitely not part of a song. An alarm bell rang in Crowley’s head and his pulse quickened, certain that his imagination was getting the better of him, but then he felt it as only a demon versed in every permutation of temptation could. The growing tendril of desire, quivering like a leaf in a spider’s web.

Azira was...he was… A soft groan escaped over the sound of the water and Crowley could imagine the blonde’s head falling back against the cool tile, a handing pushing down past soaked white curls... 

“Fuck,” Crowley whispered. He could feel his own body responding and squeezed his hands between his thighs as he moved onto his side. He couldn’t take advantage. He just needed to miracle himself away - to anywhere else at this point. But the next moan was louder and caught him off guard, sending a hot rush of air onto the cushion where his cheek rested.

Would it be so different now between them, he wondered? Would Azira’s body feel the same? Would he still have that desperate, ravenous look in his eyes when Crowley put his hand on him? He sat up suddenly, trying to jerk himself out of the fantasy. He could hear Azira’s breathing coming out in soft gasps. What if he stormed in there and pushed the blonde’s hands up on either side of his head, sank down to his knees fully clothed and took him in his mouth with the intent of finishing the job himself? Oh, how Azira would arch up his hips and beg for it.

Crowley cupped the urgent hard-on he’d created and squeezed, a racking breath escaping his lungs. He tortured himself with the thought that Azira’s body was straining in desire for him. A sharp cry rang out from above and Crowley practically convulsed with it, his own need unquenched and agonizing. With the snap of his fingers he willed it away, forcing his human form to revert itself back to normal operating conditions, but the raw tug in his abdomen remained.

It wasn’t just lust, inconvenient and enticing as it was, because all he wanted in the moment was to hold Azira as he came down from the high. He longed to soothe the tense crease between Azira’s eyebrows with a kiss. He wanted to whisper those words he’d always left unsaid until both of them were ruined.

The water turned off above and Crowley shook himself, trying to regain a sense of composure before Azira came back downstairs, but he never did. Instead, he heard the blonde shuffle toward the bedroom and the gentle rustle of bedsheets. He knew instinctively that the blonde’s hair was only toweled dry and would create a wet blotch on the pillowcase. For the first time in all the days since he’d arrived, the demon didn’t take up his usual post in Azira’s room. He couldn’t bear to watch the angel sleep tonight, not when all he wanted was to be invited to do just that.

-

Azira’s eyes were glued to the BBC news channel. In the span of an evening there had been three gang-related shootings, a bank robbery, multiple brawls, and a high profile scandal in the Vatican. “The world is going to Hell in a handbasket,” he commented as Crowley walked into the room.

The demon perched himself on the closest chair, legs tucked under him like a bird on a branch. “More like Hell’s come to the world,” he groused. “That’ll be Ligur, our friend from yesterday, and Hastur, another Duke of Hell. They’re growing restless here without something to focus on. It will only get worse as the other demons pile on.”

The blonde stiffened. “Isn’t there anything we can do to stop them?”

Crowley snorted derisively. “Sure. Just hone in on your angelic powers and manifest Her divine grace. You’ll be thwarting in no time.”

“Come off it,” Azira chided as he gesticulated with his hands. “I really can’t keep having this conversation.”

The demon shrugged apathetically. “I’m starting to think it just goes round as well. Tempt you to a spot of lunch?”

Azira wiggled in his seat despite himself. “Temptation accomplished,” he agreed.

The pair made their way outside where the London air had gone thick and foggy. Two pairs of eyes trained on them as they went, ignorant to the looming threat.

“You see?” Ligur hissed behind a large bin. “That’s one long-running con. Doesn’t fit.”

“I don’t know much about his work,” Hastur said. “But I’m pretty sure one go is all it takes. Why is he maintaining contact with the priest if his soul has already been won?”

“That’s what I mean to find out,” Ligur explained. “Come on then.”

He snuck across the street with Hastur in tow, miracling the door of the bookshop open and stepping inside.

The two demons were not streetsmart, if in this instance, the term referred to their wordlyness. Not only computers, but electronics of all sorts baffled the pair, and the prospect of using a lightswitch was lost on them. Instead, Ligur grabbed an unlit candelabra and used his finger to ignite it..

“There,” he said with satisfaction. “Let’s see what those two are hiding.”

Hastur rifled through a stack of weathered folios while Ligur examined the shelves, unsure of what he meant to find. For all he could tell, it was just a dusty shop filled with boring volumes of human origin. Nothing to write home about.

Hastur found himself wandering toward the center of the shop under the oculus, where the only natural sunlight beamed down. A small table holding a few books rested under the auspices of a golden cupid statue, which attracted a loathsome side-eye from the demon. His gaze settled on one volume which looked better loved than all the rest.

“Essays on the Universal Analogy between the Natural and Spiritual World” he read aloud. He opened the front cover, finding an inscription there.

‘...the meridian of his moral compass from east to west is the true line of religion, at right angles to that of morality. He will not then move to the unmagnetic iron, by the attraction of sympathy, but only by the impulsion of charity, to teach as he was taught; but he will move by attraction towards the moral magnet whom he resembles in spirit, but not yet in form.’

A faded claim of ownership was scrawled across the top of the front cover, and Hastur squinted to read it better, making out ‘Fr. Gabriel.’ He quickly dropped the book like he’d been burnt and looked more closely at his surroundings, realizing that bronze letters adorned four sides of the oculus below the railing of the second level. Cardinal directions.

Hastur stumbled back, a choking sound emitting from the back of his throat. “Ligur!” he cried out. “Ligur, we need to go!”

The orange-eyed demon appeared behind him as Hastur tripped over the leg of a fauteuil chair and crashed into his accomplice. This sent Ligur sprawling across the floor while his hand lost its grip on the candelabra. Crisp dry pages rose up to meet it eagerly, quickly consuming the fire and spreading to its neighbors like a virus.

Hastur found his feet and dragged Ligur after him as they escaped the shop, not even sparing a glance behind them to see the carnage.


	13. Chapter 13

Azira and Crowley waited for a crossing fire engine as they walked back to the shop. Neither thought much of it until they saw the smoke, and suddenly Azira was running faster than he’d ever done before. He rounded the block with Crowley on his tail just in time to see the firemen unloading. The shop was bursting with flames.

Azira’s entire body reacted to the sight, his arms waving in the air as his feet paced the ground. “No! No no no!” he was shouting. And then something came over him that made him freeze. If Crowley could have anticipated his actions, he would have tackled the blonde right there and then. But who would have ever imagined a grown man would prize his book collection over his own life?

Azira took off running and bounded over the few steps leading inside the shop, leaving Crowely to grasp at the roots of his hair before going after him, his shock stealing precious seconds from his reaction time. Crowley had hardly entered when a great burst from the firehose broke through the window, slamming him into a corner under its force. He shielded his face with his arm, madly searching for his friend amongst the flames. The idiot was gathering armloads of papers as if they were children needing to be saved.

An angry growl ripped out of Crowley’s throat as he jumped to his feet, intent on dragging the blonde out by his foppish mob of curls. He’d made it halfway across the room when a huge beam of wood migrated from its brethren in the ceiling, shifting with an ominous crack.

The demon glanced up as embers sparked and the beam began to fall.

“Well..fuck,” Crowley stated, and was immediatley buried in the rubble.

Azira turned at the jarring sound of the building crumbling and watched his best friend disappear underneath it, a shocked look of horror on his face.

“Crowley!” he cried weakly as he made his way over the gauntlet of burning books and furniture. He dug into the pile of bricks and wood, singeing his delicate hands in the process. Tears streamed down his face and he blinked through them, totally focused on bringing Crowley up to the surface. Some impossible strength surged within him and he managed to push the disintegrating beam away, finding the redhead’s soot-smeared face beneath.

“Crowley, come on,” the blonde urged. “You’ve got to heal yourself! We’re getting out of here!” He tried to drag his friend out of the pile but he was stuck.

The demon opened one swollen eye and cracked a half-smile. “Shit. Sorry...never told you about...discorporation. I’ll be back...in a tic.”

Azira had no idea what he was talking about and assumed he was going into shock. “Somebody help me in here!” he screamed, his voice betraying the sense of desperation he felt. “My best friend is dying! For fuck’s sake!”

The firemen couldn’t hear him over the din, too busy blasting away at the flames and securing the scene. Azira was on his own. His filthy fingers grasped at Crowley’s wan cheeks.

“Please, Crowley,” he begged in a whisper. “Don’t go! I can’t… You asked me if I could do it without you and I lied, I can’t! I haven’t done and I won’t do! Please stay. Oh God, oh dear fucking God stay with me.”

Azira trailed off as he bent down to the demon’s weakening frame, whispering prayers that drifted back from his youth. Any holy word or verse he could think of became a mantra as he laid himself down at the invisible altar of a higher power. His weeping was so loud he didn’t notice just how quiet everything had become. A bird’s song drifted in the distance causing him to tilt his head up, just barely.

The light was so bright he had to squint at first, and then he felt it like a hand resting on his cheek. She didn’t use words or visions, nothing that a human would need to understand. Her presence was enough for Azira, shining like the lodestar that had always been there if he’d just looked hard enough.

Through the brilliant light he could make out the clouded image of Crowley’s face and reached for it, first with one hand and then another. He knew instinctively what to do. He bowed his head and with a thought, performed his first miracle.

-

One second the chief was shouting at the pipeman and the next he was staring at the hearth in the Engine 4 firehouse. He shook his head, feeling a little fuzzy between the ears as he flexed his slippered arches. Work was getting to him. He should probably take a vacation.

-

Crowley’s eyes opened slowly. Azira was snuggled up next to him on the bed, sleeping like a lamb. The demon blinked a few times as his memory informed him of the dramatic ordeal they had just survived, seemingly unscathed. And then his nose twitched. Not with the smell of acrid smoke and burnt electric wires as it should have, but something heady and intimate. He leaned over the unconscious blonde and inhaled, filling his lungs with the scent of sugared goose down and easter lilies.

“Angel,” he affirmed in the barest whisper.

Azira didn’t open his eyes but a great white wing lifted up and stretched from behind his back Crowley sighed at its singular beauty, wanting desperately to touch it. Azira inclined his head toward the demon and gazed candidly at him. “Yeah...I know.”

-

Hastur and Ligur were only two of the six demons on earth. There was Crowley of course, but also Dagon, a close cohort of Beelzebub, an annoying demon presenting as triplets named Spike, and perhaps least useful, the Usher of Hell, a fat miniature reptile who apparently answered to the name Eric.

As soon as Azira manifested his divine form, five of those demons responded like sharks to blood in the water. Of course Hastur had already suspected angelic intervention in the bookshop, but this was a flare over the bough at midnight. One by one, the demons raised their faces toward the sky and began to follow the scent driving them on like a homing beacon.

-

Crowley continued to stare at the angel before him. He was pristine. Immaculate. Beauti-

“I can practically feel your eyes boring into me,” Azira complained, raising his head to look crossly at the redhead.

“S-sorry,” the demon balked. “It’s just...you’re so radiant.” His voice was full of wonder.

Azira yawned. “You act like you’ve never seen an angel before.”

“It’s been a long time. Unless you count all the times I’ve seen you,” Crowley mused.

“Why are they so rare?” the blonde asked, preening one of his wings already.

Crowley couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips. Of course his friend would be a stuffy angel, and oh how that made him even more smitten than he already was. He dragged himself away from the feeling the way one forces themselves out of bed in the morning.

“I have absolutely no bloody idea,” he answered honestly. “It’s been that way for a while now. After Christ, actually. Kind of a turning point for your lot. Hope She knew what She was doing.”

Azira fixed him with a withering glare. “She. Does.”

“Whoah, there,” Crowley said, hands up in defense. “Avenging angel, gotcha. But the point stands your side is MIA here, or it was until you. Um...angel?”

The blonde’s rage had turned back to serviceable politeness. “Yes, dear?”

“I realize I’m still here,” the demon began. “So good job there. And we’re still in the flat. Am I correct in assuming that the shop was restored as well?”

“Oh,” Azira looked very pleased with himself. “Yes. Sort of a three for one there. And on my first go round! Everything and everyone back to their previous positions. Though...I might be missing some Dickens. I’ll just need to run inventory to make sure.”

“Great,” Crowley smiled, but it faltered soon after. “And uh...I suppose you aren’t planning to smite me? I wasn’t sure what kind of impulses you felt toward me now that you’re more yourself. Me being a demon and all.”

The angel tilted his head as if considering it for the first time. “You’re asking how I feel about you?”

“Well…” Crowley broke off with a choking noise and sat up in the bed, hugging his knees.

Azira emulated his movements and looked at his friend beautifically. “Oh, Crowley. The only thing I feel is what pervades my being. I look at the world around me, the humans in it, yourself too, and what I feel is love.”

The demon blushed, squirming under his attention. “Yeah, sure. I mean you’re an angel! Don’t think you can do anything but love. Everything and everyone, apparently.” His last sentence was a bit less enthusiastic.

Azira yawned again, and Crowley realized how exhausted he looked. The first miracles were always a trial. He reached up and affectionately tucked back a tuft of white hair behind his ear. “Knackered?” he asked softly.

The angel nodded. “Crowley...would you mind? I’ll just have a kip if you can keep watch. I’m feeling a bit vulnerable at the moment.”

“I’ll be here,” the demon replied easily. “Rest up, angel.”

He watched as Azira closed his eyes and wiggled against his side.


	14. Chapter 14

Crowley was not idle. As Azira slept he calculated multiple versions of a gameplan. His fellow demons would be on the hunt if they weren’t already, converging on their general location. Azira was a newly awakened angel, powerful but unsure of his limitations, and only one (two if you counted Crowley) against five. He needed to find a way to even the odds.

Suddenly a crash came from the shop downstairs and Crowley tensed. Azira was still fast asleep so the demon decided to investigate on his own. Surely the others hadn’t made it there already? He steeled himself and crept down the stairs. The outline of a tall figure stood in the center of the room near the angel’s desk. Crowley snuck forward, grabbing a statue off a side table as he went. He glanced at it, annoyed to see it was a fat little cherub.

When he got close enough, the figure turned toward him, an angry snarl on their face. “Demon!” the man hissed. He’d only just walked into the light for Crowley to recognize him when he was body slammed into the ground, the statue rolling out of his grip. The redhead gasped into the brunette’s face, desperately trying to push him off, but he was ridiculously strong.

Crowley had just enough presence of mind to note the scent in the air, much like Azira’s but with a hint of...Hugo Boss? Ugh. He glared into the eyes of his attacker and managed to speak in wheezing bursts. “You’re a...you’re an...angel?”

“Archangel fucking Gabriel,” the man grunted out as he threw the demon clear across the room.

Azira mercifully appeared out of the corner of his eye and stepped in front of the advancing angel, blocking his path to Crowley. He stood resolute with his hands fisted at his sides before realizing who he was confronting.

“Father Gabriel?” he asked in a stunned voice.

“Oh, Aziraphale!” Gabriel said. “Thank God you’re not hurt. This demon’s only the first of many. Stand aside and I will smite him.”

Both the blonde and redhead exchanged a quick look. “Aziraphale?” Crowley repeated. “Ohh, wait, I get it. Azira Fell.”

“Listen Father...er, angel?” Azira interrupted.

“He’s the archangel fucking Gabriel,” Crowley interceded as he tried to get to his feet.

“Crowley is here to protect me,” Azira went on, “You remember my imaginary friend from childhood? The one you said didn’t exist?”

“You mean to tell me a demon has walked by your side the whole time you were at St. Elysium?” Gabriel’s face was aghast. “I kept saying it smelled like brimstone but the Brothers assured me we had a skunk problem…”

“And I always thought the orphanage reeked of heavenly intervention,” Crowley sneered. “Initially I figured it was Azira but it was you all along!”

“Look, he’s not that kind of demon,” Azira countered, desperate to get ahead of the conversation. “And I’m sorry but you’re just going to have to accept it!” He stomped his bare foot on the wood floor as if that could have the remotest effect on the archangel. Crowley stopped himself just short of commenting on how adorable it was. The avenging angel in jim jams.

Instead, he directed their attention to a more pressing issue. “Sorry, we’ve got five demons converging on us as we speak. Now might be time to unite in the face of adversity. They’re coming for Azira and clearly, none of us want to see what happens if they get him. Can we please just agree on that and make a plan?”

“Right,” Gabriel said tightly. “I’ll stay here and try to keep their attention while you two escape. Meet me in Tadfield in two days time.”

“Tadfield?” Crowley croaked in confusion.

“Just do it, demon,” Gabriel growled at him. “I don’t have time to explain the plan to you. It’s ineffable.”

“Come on angel,” Crowley said as he grabbed Azira’s hand. “I’ve got a place in North London. We can stop over there before we head on to Tadfield. But we need to go now.”

“Will you be okay?” Azira asked, refusing to move from the spot as he looked as his former priest.

The archangel laughed before peeling off his designer coat and placing it reverently on Azira’s desk. “As long as they don’t scuff the Armani,” he breathed.

Crowley froze, a sense of deja vu overwhelming him as his friend dragged him toward the backdoor. “Sorry, did he just say-”

“No time, Crowley!” Azira commanded. And they were off.

-

Within a few hours the front door of the shop opened and closed, the sound of low-heeled oxfords on the floor echoing off the walls. “You’ve been cheating,” a woman’s voice said mockingly. She came to stand in front of the large oak table where Gabriel was sitting.

“You’re not supposed to be here either. And you already have an unfair advantage,” the archangel said.

Beelzebub raised and lowered her shoulders. “Them’s the breaks.” Her eyes skimmed over him and she tilted her head curiously. “What are you planning to do when my team arrives? Fight them off all by yourself?”

Gabriel leaned back in his chair and did something many would describe as ‘manspreading.’ “I could,” he bluffed. “Easily.”

“Oh, they’re no match for you, are they?” Beelzebub mocked. “Is that supposed to turn me on?”

The angel didn’t blink. “Does it?”

Beelzebub made a non-committal noise in the back of her throat before walking behind the angel and leaning down to rest her arms over his shoulders. “Do you ever get bored of it all?”

“With you?” the archangel asked. “Never.”

His wings exploded out of his back, knocking the demon away. She quickly regained her footing and kicked high at the angel’s chest, but he caught her ankle and twisted it around, forcing her to the ground on her stomach.

Gabriel bent down, one knee driving into her lower back. His fingers traced up her torso, just short of her breasts. “Call them off?” he asked politely.

He’d made a mistake. His mouth was too close to her head. Beelzebub bucked it back into his nose, sending him sprawling behind her on his ass. She laughed triumphantly as he stared at the blood in disgust, and quickly straddled his lap.

“There’s something funny going on between our friends,” she confided, sniffing the air. “Can you imagine? An angel and a demon...in flagrante delicto.”

Gabriel scowled. “That’s repulsive.”

Beelzebub looked thoughtful for a moment. “I know.” She locked her lips on his and drove him to the floor.


	15. Chapter 15

Azira and Crowley arrived at the condo but the angel lingered outside.

“This is really weird,” he admitted. “You having a place. I’m scared to ask what’s inside.”

“You mean besides the torture chamber?” Crowley joked. He snapped his fingers to turn the lights on and beckoned the angel in, closing the door behind them.

The condo was sparse. Minimalistic. Basically empty, save for a few verdant plants and a couple of artworks on the wall. It gave no intimation of the person who lived there, but perhaps that’s what Crowley was going for. Not a home but a holdover. Azira didn’t know why that made him sad.

Crowley walked into the kitchen and emerged with a bottle of red and two glasses.

“Have you been alone the whole time?” Azira asked as he watched the demon pour. “I mean...I didn’t know if you had anyone when we parted ways.”

Crowley glanced at him before handing over a very full drink. “I haven’t,” he said quietly. “Didn’t really have the inclination. You?”

“Now and then,” the blonde admitted. “But nothing that lasted. My therapist called it attachment disorder.”

“What if you just didn’t love any of them?” Crowley asked.

“I think that’s what attachment disorder is,” Azira joked. The pair laughed and focused on their drinks for a moment. The silence was oddly comfortable.

“Crowley...if the demons can smell me what’s to stop them from coming here? Surely Gabriel can’t hold them off for long.”

The demon’s face went bright red and he downed his drink before pouring another. “Well...I’ve been thinking about that. We need to uh...disguise your scent. Like a hunter, you know. In your case, the strongest mask would be um...uh…” He spilled his wine on the counter and frowned. “For fuck’s sake- the the scent of another demon.” He looked up at Azira openly, his face pained. “My scent, angel.”

“Ah,” Azira stated. “So I would wear your clothes?”

Crowley buried his hand in his hair. “N-not quite. That wouldn’t be strong enough. The scent comes from your ah...your skin and glands and such.”

“Do you have a particular brand of lotion or-”

“No, bloody hell Azira! It’s sweat and body odor and saliva and secretions-” he cut himself off while he was ahead, tearing off his sunglasses in the process to pinch the span between his eyes.

The blonde nodded a few times before a flush spread over his cheeks. “Oh, ohhh. Yes, I see.”

The silence that dragged on this time was not so comfortable. Azira sipped his wine gingerly. “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

Crowley’s head snapped up, eyeing the angel like he’d just suggested they listen to Velvet Underground.

“It’s not like we’ve never…” Azira’s eyes went up and around the room as he waved his hand. “In fact, my first time. I’m sure you recall. You were quite instrumental.”

“Ngk,” the redhead agreed. It was getting intolerably hot in the condo.

Azira walked over to the sofa and patted the cushion next to him. Crowley was at his side embarrassingly fast.

“I suppose we could start with something simple,” the angel said. He set his glass down on the table and motioned for Crowely to do the same. They sat there, staring into each other’s eyes before Azira leaned in.

“Alright-?”

“Yesss,” Crowley quickly interrupted.

The kiss began slow, just lips. Crowley hardly moved, allowing his angel to set the pace and limitations. He felt his heart hammering in his chest and willed it to beat normally.

Azira made a soft sound in the back of his throat and his mouth grew a little more insistent. It opened and his tongue darted forward experimentally. Crowley realized he’d lifted his hand and it was hovering near the blonde’s head, not quite daring to touch. But when he gained the courage to move his tongue against Azira’s it landed on its own, fingers drifting through ethereal curls. His nails scratched lightly against the blonde’s scalp, drawing a moan from those increasingly hungry lips.

Azira broke away for a moment to breathe, a keepsake from his time as a human.

“Angel…” The blonde looked up at him. “I have to ask, because for me this isn’t just survival.” Crowley’s face revealed an alarming level of distress. “I’ll do whatever you need, give whatever you need, but I want to know… I have to know if you want me, just for me.”

Azira looked at his friend and saw his pain clearly for the first time, all of his self-torture and bottled-up doubt and most of all, the fact that Crowley NEEDED him to say the words. Azira finally understood what Crowley had been trying to tell him about what it meant to be a demon. When he was a child Azira thought he’d lost everything, but that was before he knew what Everything was - the grace of Her love and all it entailed - something Crowley had never regained.

At last he could see the expanse between them, and the path that could unite them after all this time. It would be so easy for Azira yet impossible for Crowley to traverse it. So the angel closed the distance, the back of his fingers stroking over a sharp cheekbone.

“How long have you waited for me to tell you that I love you?” Azira asked. The demon looked away, his lower lip trembling.

Azira sought the demon’s shaking hands and pressed them to his lips. “I’ve always done, Crowley. But it was my seventeenth birthday when I fell in love with you. It wasn’t the books, I mean, they were wonderful… It was the fact that my happiness made you happy. But you see, it was you who made me happy. Completely. I never had the courage to say it and I’ve so many regrets...regrets you can release me from with a word.”

“Three,” Crowley corrected, finding his tongue. His eyes were so unguarded without the protective lenses. Tears at the edges threatened to fall. Azira could feel himself falling into those golden depths, drawn forward by their sincerity.

Crowley bent close to his ear, a hand coming up to support the angel’s neck. “I love you,” he vowed. “Azira, Aziraphale, angel.”

Azira’s hand came up to cover Crowley’s and they knit themselves together, a reconciliation and a mending of two hearts that had beaten so piteously alone.

Azira kissed his demon, raising his chin with one finger to meet his eyes. With Crowley watching, the angel reached forward and squeezed his fingers over the demon’s sharp hips. He pulled slowly but possessively, guiding the redhead into his lap.

His mouth moved to the demon’s neck where he pressed several open-mouthed kisses. “I’m going to have you now, Crowley,” he whispered. “You’ve waited so patiently, for so long.” 

Crowley’s jaw was slack, his eyes rolling up into his head as it fell back, and his hands squeezed Azira’s strong shoulders before settling on his chest. “Please,” he begged, his voice broken.

Azira grabbed Crowley’s hips and pushed him into the couch while bunching his t-shirt up to his chest. His lips moved over the exposed skin and the demon arched his lower back, his hands grabbing at the cushion behind his head.

All Crowley could see was a nest of blonde curls trailing up his torso until the angel found a nipple and latched on, and then he could make out the teeth nipping tenderly there, pulling at the sensitive bud. Crowley tried to focus on his breathing, his body already commanding him to move, and then the angel was working his way down, dipping his tongue into the indent of his belly button.

“Ohgod,” the redhead gasped. He looked down and remembered the fire in his lungs when he’d seen Azira about to do this to someone else. He’d wished against everything to take that boy’s place and now he had, and Azira wasn’t stopping like he’d done then. Instead the blonde’s busy fingers were on the button and zipper of his tight black jeans, and then peeling them down with an awed expression.

“Crowley…” Azira croaked out appreciatively. The angel was punch drunk just looking at him. And the demon was more than ready, harder than he’d ever been and leaking in anticipation. Azira stroked over him with tentative touches and Crowley’s entire body stuttered, lit up like a city at night. It would have felt good regardless but it was the fact that Azira was doing it. His sweet soft angel he would do anything for, and here he was worshipping the least deserving creature in existence.

Azira bent down and took Crowley in his mouth and the demon thought he’d died and gone back to Heaven, but the blonde merely sucked on the tip and released him. Crowley lifted his head and stared at the angel who manifested an evil grin.

“You...complete bastard,” the redhead breathed. Azira chuckled and then his mouth was back on him, the vibration of his laugh now echoing through his erection. And all Crowley could do was moan through shallow breaths and be thankful, so fucking thankful for everything.

A rustling sound drew his gaze back to the angel. The blonde had pushed down his tartan pants and taken himself in hand, working at the same pace as his mouth. Crowley had to fight every instinct not to come right then, the sight of it lewd and perfect and better than he’d ever imagined.

“Let me see you,” the redhead gasped, and though he was loathe to lose the glory of the angel’s mouth, he could watch his beloved properly. Azira’s hand was wrapped around his own thick cock, the twist of his wrist mesmerizing as he pleasured himself, staring all the while at Crowley’s exposed body.

Azira miracled a bottle of lube into existence and wet himself down, never breaking eye contact with the demon. Crowley wanted nothing more than to reach down and touch himself but he didn’t dare. Azira knew better though, and took pity on him as those same soaking fingers moved to press under the demon’s sack, gently probing until he found what he was looking for. He slid in two fingers at once because he could, and Crowley couldn’t bite back the cry that escaped his mouth. He’d never felt that kind of fullness, and his body was so ready for the angel it unnerved him.

“On your hands and knees,” the angel said, so quiet that Crowley wasn’t sure he’d heard right at first, but Azira’s expression was unrelenting. His fingers drew out and he waited for the demon to move. He did. At first he was disappointed that he couldn’t see his angel, but Azira grabbed a handful of red hair and yanked his head up deliciously, pointing him toward the glass sliding door opposite them. “Look there,” he commanded.

Crowley did as he was told and watched the blonde’s dark reflection pull off his tartan top and the rest of his kit. “I wanted to see you like this,” Azira said, meeting his eyes in the reflection. “I’ve longed to see you like this.” Crowley’s response was little more than a whine. And then he felt the angel aligning himself, the soft press of his cock against his entrance, and he could see the look on his face in the glass. Predatory.

Azira’s free hand slid up his spine followed by his mouth. He kissed every vertebrae on the way until he reached the top and Crowley felt the slide of the angel’s cock moving inside of him, filling him with a swift thrust. Crowley was pushed forward, and couldn’t resist craning his head around to look at the angel when he was seated to the hilt. The demon’s eyes were wide and pleading, maybe a little uncertain. Azira panted, his hips moving in slow circles. “I love you,” he mouthed because he couldn’t speak. Crowley shuddered and urged him to move.

At last he withdrew and returned, so slowly Crowley wondered if he might discorporate from the feeling. His head bowed as he pressed his forehead to the cushion, realizing that he could push back against Azira, controlling the pace, and the angel let him.

“Ohh Crowley,” the blonde groaned, his fingers alternately massaging the demon’s hips and thighs. And that was it. That was what Crowley had been waiting for, and the rough gasp that escaped his lips betrayed the fact that he was so close already. Azira sensed his rising need and redoubled his efforts, skin slapping against skin in a tantalizing rhythm. Crowley could feel Azira start to curl over him, his chest pressing into his back as his thrusts become sloppier, more insistent. Azira’s lips grazed the demon’s shoulder and his hand found Crowley’s neglected cock. It only took a few pulls and Crowley cried out as the orgasm shuddered through his body, Azira following quickly after.

The weight of the angel’s body collapsed over the demon’s, hot puffs of air tracing the outline of Crowley’s ear. Soon the breaths settled and were replaced by soft kisses on the back of his neck. A hand reached up to clasp Crowley’s, cradling it with infinite care. When they were able, they repositioned themselves chest to chest and kissed for what felt like hours.

“You are so beloved,” Azira said so carefully, as if the words might shatter. His eyes searched Crowley’s meaningully. “There’s nothing precious in the world to me but you.”

They were so close Azira could make out the faint freckles on Crowley’s nose, the slight crinkles that formed at the edges of his eyes when he smiled. “Azira,” the demon sounded out his name in wonder and exaltation as he pulled him impossibly closer. “My angel.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Mum, look!” a little girl was tugging on her mother’s sleeve who paid little mind. The grownup was much more involved in sorting her shopping list before entering the Soho market. The little girl wandered off to follow the rather extraordinary creature that wobbled by. It wasn’t quick by any means, making it easy for the child to catch up to it.

“Hello?” the girl asked as she watched it disappear into the closest bush. She crawled after it, feeling like Alice chasing after the white rabbit, though this creature looked a bit more like - “A baby dragon?” the girl said aloud, holding her little hands over her mouth.

The creature turned to face her, a skeletal walking stick in his hand. “Hardly,” he said, showing her his exceptional teeth.

-

A handsome young man entered the Skye Suits establishment diagonal from the bookshop and blinked his pretty (if not overly long) eyelashes at the owner.

“Looking for anything in particular, sir?” the proprietor asked.

“Very particular,” the man replied, his nose drifting into the air. “And close, but not here.”

“I assure you we’re the highest end-”

“Not high enough,” Spike spat. “Not nearly.”

He exited the shop with just a few left of his list, and he didn’t have to look for long, because there was Dagon, the self-righteous- “Darling!” Spike breathed out. His dopplegangers weren’t far off, and converged on the antiquarian bookstore. “Is this it?” they asked in unison.

Dagon frowned. “You know I prefer to work alone.”

“And take all the glory?” Hastur added, stepping up the curb and joining her. Ligur followed directly behind, staring at store front in disbelief.

“I’d apologize for being late,” the Usher of Hell added, appearing from a darkened alleyway. “But I had to stop and grab a bite.”

“Fucking Eric?” Dagon complained. “Looks like it’s the entire peanut gallery. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

Five demons enter a bookshop...

“This is the same place we burned down, right?” Ligur asked his companion as they trailed behind the others.

“Oh yes,” Hastur confirmed. “It would have taken a miracle to restore it. I knew there was something fishy about that so-called priest. This building has the smack of Heaven all over it.”

“It smells off,” Spike interrupted, trading sentences between his twins. “I can barely pick up the angel scent that drew me here. You sure we’re in the right place?”

“Right place,” Beelzebub appeared from around a corner with a wicked smile on her face. “Wrong time. Looks like we’ve got a moving target.”

Dagon bowed. “My prince. What are you doing here?” She flicked her eyes over her superior, noting that the buttons on her blouse were misaligned.

“Checking in,” Beelzebub replied lazily. “You don’t seriously think I trust any of you to get the job done?”

Hastur bowed belatedly. “Hail, Satan,” he said formally. “I assure you were on the right track.”

“Hardly,” the prince snorted. “The angel ran off last night, way ahead of you. Heading east. I expect it won’t be too much effort for your lot to catch up.”

“No, my prince,” Ligur chimed in.

Beelzebub tapped her foot expectantly. “Well?” she asked loudly, a frustrated look on her face.

The demons bumped into each other in their haste as they made toward the entrance, each scrabbling to surpass the other. Beelzebub would have laughed if it weren’t so pathetic. She rolled her eyes as the door shut behind them, raising her fingers to her temple.

Gabriel appeared behind her, tucking his cashmere turtleneck into his pants. “Why did you do that?” he asked plainly, still uncertain about what had transpired between them.

Beelzebub gave him a crooked smile. His meticulously styled hair had turned into a tousled mess. She raised a tentative hand and stroked through the fine brown strands. “I don’t know,” she said softly.

The archangel caught her wrist and twisted until it was slightly painful and she gasped with pleasure. He pressed a kiss to her pulse point before releasing her. “This isn’t going to end well, Bee,” he stated, allowing her hand to settle on his cheek.

“Probably not,” she agreed. “Good thing I hate happy endings.”

-

Crowley’s nose was nestled behind the angel’s ear as he kissed the delicate skin there. Azira could feel his erection against his arse. Dawn filtered into the bedroom and rested on the floor.

“Morning,” Azira said happily, pressing back against the demon.

Crowley sighed. “Can we stay like this forever? We could hide here. Long as I keep you well-fucked.”

“Mm,” Azira concurred. Crowley was rubbing himself between the angel’s thighs and he could feel the drag against his balls. It was pure bliss. “Afraid we have obligations. Something about an ineffable plan...”

“What’s more ineffable than this?” the demon said deviously, his hand coming around to stroke Azira’s cock. The angel’s head fell back, giving over to the sensation.

“You’re insatiable,” he scolded. Their bodies moved of their own accord, picking up speed as their mutual pleasure built.

“Zira,” Crowley gasped. “Please.”

The angel smiled to himself. He’d learned his lover’s body as well as his innermost desires over the course of the previous evening. There was one thing he loved best of all, however, and Azira would never deny him.

“You make me feel so good, Crowley,” he began. “No one else can make me feel this way.”

The demon’s breath hitched and he increased the rhythm of his strokes and thrusts.

“Do you know how special you are? So considerate and loving. You’re exceptional,” Azira continued, his toes curling as the demon handled him.

Crowley let out a desperate whimper and the angel knew he was getting close.

“You deserve this, Crowley. You deserve to be loved by me. To take your pleasure from my body,” he gasped as the demon’s sharp teeth locked down on the flesh of his shoulder.

“I love you,” Azira stuttered as his own orgasm built. “I n-need you, Crowley. And I trust you.”

The demon groaned deliciously as he spilled over the angel’s fleshy thighs, his fist bringing Azira over the edge shortly after. They lay panting on the bed, hardly able to move.

“Incredible,” Azira breathed out. Crowley tucked up his legs and spooned the angel, somehow more exposed in that position. Azira could feel what he needed, and turned toward him to bury the redhead in his chest, holding him protectively. Crowley was brave, powerful, a dangerous force when he wanted to be, but in this space he let Azira see his deepest fears, allowed his beloved to take care of him. Crowley’s vulnerability only made him more beautiful in the angel’s eyes. He bowed his chin, kissing the auburn crown of his head reverently.

“Crowley…” he said several minutes later. “What happens after? Say we fight off these demons. I can’t imagine what our future looks like together.”

The redhead considered his question. “Well it’s never been done before,” he replied. “An angel and a demon. Suppose we’ll have to make it up.”

“How do you feel about early retirement?” Azira asked, his fingers stroking up and down Crowley’s forearm. The demon looked up at him with an amused smile on his face.

“I’ll just put in my notice with the Lord of the Underworld,” he chuckled. “I suppose we’ll travel?”

“For a time,” Azira agreed, indulging in the fantasy. “Then to a cottage, perhaps. Someplace quiet and remote, a few little shops to visit now and then. Each day better than the last.”

Crowley squeezed the blonde’s hand. “Anywhere you want to go, angel. I’ll follow.”

Azira knew he would.


	17. Chapter 17

Tadfield was a bit provincial for Gabriel’s taste, but he didn’t get to make the rules. He went where he was told, often with incomplete information and a priority on delivering messages over answering specifics. He’d never forget when he was sent to Mary, who had frankly, a ton of questions about virgin births and how to explain any of it to her husband. The whole ordeal didn’t really go as smoothly as the Word summed it up later, and it rarely had.

It was Gabriel who had actually invented the word ‘ineffable’ to get out of tortured explanations. This seemed to pacify the humans he interacted with and turned out to be a very popular buzzword in Heaven for the next several millennia. One might say it went ‘viral’ if angels had any concept of the term.

Gabriel’s current mission was no less vague than any other. He had been told to summon Aziraphale to Tadfield and await instructions. Like any good soldier, he followed his orders and now had only to wait. He did so on a park bench off the main road, hands folded neatly in his lap.

He did not spend even a second thinking about a certain Prince of Hell. Not about the strange attraction that had grown between them during their long acquaintance… He hadn’t even realized he’d been flirting. Since when was discorporating each other back and forth flirting anyways? Of course, that got old so they met to play the game instead. Their little secret. He caught himself smiling and frowned decidedly. But when she’d put her hands on him the other night there was no denying there was something between them. And then she’d misdirected her own troops to benefit Gabriel...

The archangel made a tortured noise as he straightened up even higher in his seat. HIs default, when uncomfortable or uncertain was toward propriety, like any other decent angel. If he could have, he’d have taken out his halo and shined it right there. Nothing like a little polish to make one feel superior.

Thankfully Azira and his demon arrived just in time to interrupt his train of thought. It would have been impossible to ignore them, in fact, since they screeched to a halt right in front of him in a mint condition Bentley.

Crowley jumped out first to let out his passenger who looked a little worse for wear.

“Dear me,” Azira complained. “I wasn’t sure we’d arrive in one piece. Hello Gabriel.”

“Aziraphale,” the archangel greeted as he stood. “Follow me.”

He led the pair to a small cafe on the corner. “It will look less conspicuous if we talk in here,” he confided. Unfortunately, Gabriel wasn’t very savvy when it came to emulating human nature, and therefore thought it was completely acceptable to stand in the center of a crowded restaurant to discuss their plans. He was waving the waiter away when Azira interceded.

“People tend to get tables in places like this,” he said to the archangel as they followed the waiter.

“Three coffees,” Crowley said easily when their order was taken. Gabriel picked up his cup when it arrived and held it in the air.

“So what’s the plan?” the demon asked as he sipped his drink.

The archangel paused, finding his usual answer wanting. “To be honest, I’m not sure,” he replied. “I know She wanted us to meet in Tadfield, such as it is. She wasn’t particularly forthcoming about next steps.”

Azira raised his brows in surprise. “So...we are to take it on faith that things will come together as they should?”

Gabriel half-smiled. “That’s generally how it goes.”

“Doesn’t work for me,” Crowley groused. “We’ve got a team of hot-headed demons in pursuit and no life lines that I know of. I can’t just sit around waiting for them to show up.”

“At least we’ve evened the odds a bit,” Azira mentioned. “Gabriel, do put your cup down if you aren’t going to drink from it.” The archangel complied.

“So we’re just biding our time then,” Crowley said impatiently.

“Not quite,” the blonde suggested. “Gabriel, you can imagine I have a lot of questions for you. Your role in all of this, the extent of my powers, what my purpose is…”

The archangel cut him off with a hand in the air. “Much of that is for Her to answer,” he intoned heavily. “But I can tell you I’m here to serve in a protective capacity. I was assigned to shepherd you through the early stages of your life and to ensure you reached maturity. From what I can gather you present as a Principality, meaning you were meant to be stationed on earth to watch over Her creations. Why She felt it was necessary to keep you in the dark about all of it goes beyond my paygrade. If your powers match your station then you can perform all the basic miracles of most angels while also serving in a more...militant capacity when needed.”

“M-militant?” Azira asked with trepidation. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Gabriel breathed. “There may be a chance for diplomacy.”

“Diplomacy?” Crowley sneered. “I don’t think you’ve met my colleagues. They don’t do arbitration.”

“I have an understanding with one of the higher ups,” Gabriel informed him. “I can’t promise anything, but I have an idea of how we can resolve the conflict. It’s a fool’s errand anyways, for them to believe they can corrupt an angel. Even if a demon, not unlike yourself Crowley, managed to tempt Aziraphale toward...unsavory behaviors, it wouldn’t be enough to Fall.”

“And how do you know that?” Crowley followed up, knowing full well the activities he and Azira had been enjoying for the last few days.

Gabriel flushed and fidgeted with his coffee cup, turning it to the left and then the right. “I just...know.” His voice cracked. “It’s ineffable.” He replied, cursing internally.

“Hm,” the demon commented. “Tell me, does your...understanding have something to do with a certain supervisor of mine?” He felt a sharp kick from under the table and saw Azira eyeing him with a warning.

“Oh!” Gabriel demurred, “You mean...oh what’s her name. Beez, or something? Yes, I suppose that’s the one.”

“It’s strange,” the redhead continued. “I swear I can smell her. She must be nearby.”

Crowley looked over at his angel triumphantly and mouthed the word ‘Armani’ while the archangel stared off guiltily. Azira just shook his head and tried to change the subject.

“Where shall we meet our adversaries?” the angel asked. “Is there perhaps an even more remote location nearby where we can carry out our business?”

“Yes,” Gabriel answered, looking thankful for the distraction. “There’s a military base nearby. Let’s head that way to prepare.”

The trio paid their bill and made for the Bentley. They paid no mind to the vexed looking villager and his dog as the car peeled out of the otherwise serene village.


	18. Chapter 18

“This isn’t right,” Spike complained. “We’ve looked through every city east of London and the scent only grows fainter. Our prince had bad information.”

Eric jabbed his walking stick down on the other demon’s foot. “Shut up!” he hissed as Spike jumped from the pain. “If she catches wind of your doubt it’ll be the end of us all.”

“Even Beelzebub is not infallible,” Dagon added. “But in this case, I can only assume the angel has tricked us all. I’ve had a growing sense of an angelic presence, far away from here. I suggest we take the short route.”

Hastur and Ligur nodded before snapping their fingers and disappearing. One by one, the other demons followed suit. They materialized in central Oxfordshire, each picking up the faint scent of their quarry.

“Much better,” Dagon purred. “Let’s get this shit show on the road.”

They walked for a few hours, eventually finding themselves at an abandoned military base, the barbed fence left open as if they had been expected.

“I like this place,” Hastur said fondly, admiring the tanks parked inside the perimeter.

“Could be a trap,” Ligur warned as he held out an arm to block his companions’ path.

“My favorite,” Hastur smiled.

Dagon rolled her eyes as she strode on in front of the group. “Come on you idiots,” she grumbled. “It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

The demons entered the central region of the base tucked between the barracks. All was silent other than the chirping of a few distant birds. Spike was about to comment on that when a stuffy-looking figure emerged from around the corner. He shuffled over to address the group as if he were the concierge.

“Hello,” the blonde said pleasantly. “I’m Azira, the uh...secret angel you’ve all been looking for. I expect you’ll know how you’d like to proceed.”

Ligur lunged toward the angel but was easily held back by Dagon. “Ha! I knew it! Where’s the traitor Crowley? He should answer for his crimes!”

“Crimes?” the angel asked.

“Yeah!” Ligur yelled. “Hidin’ an angel of Heaven to uh...uh…”

“To what?” Crowley asked as he walked up to stand by Azira. “Go ahead and finish that sentence.”

“To turn sides!” Hastur jumped in. “You’ve hidden the angel to win Her favor, obviously.”

“You’ll be destroyed for this, Crowley,” Eric added, shaking his stick at him.

“Huh,” the redhead contemplated aloud. “And here I thought I was the only one among you who finished the job we were all assigned. To root out the angel and corrupt him with demonic wiles.”

“He looks pretty unscathed to me,” Dagon growled, noting the angel’s dainty exterior and innocent expression.

“Oh believe me he got the works,” Crowley stated. “Did all sorts of unsavory things to him. Trouble is it had no effect. And you all know my technique is flawless."

“Perhaps your approach needs a refresher,” Dagon spat. “Hand him over to us. We’ll get the job done right. A lengthy stay in Hell’s torture chamber will set him to rights.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Gabriel said as he appeared in a flash of light. “Azira is mine to protect. You’ll have to get past me first.”

“With pleasure,” Dagon hissed. She began to walk toward him menacingly when Beelzebub materialized through a firey portal. She instantly looked unimpressed.

“What’s this?” the prince asked. “You lot are gonna take on an archangel? Is this a bloody joke?”

“We can handle him!” Dagon protested, her hands curled into tight fists.

“Please,’ Beelzebub huffed. “He could smite the lot of you with one snap of his fingers. No, no. We’re going to play this another way.”

Her subordinates cursed and hissed as she walked toward Gabriel.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel asked, his face tense. “You know I can’t take them all out that easily.”

“Precisely,” the prince agreed. “But they don’t need to know that. Just follow my lead, alright?”

Gabriel nodded surreptitiously as Beelzebub turned to address the gathered audience. “Today we’re going to settle things the old-fashioned way,” she smiled. The demons cheered as Ligur shouted out, “Fight to the death!”

The prince snapped her fingers and a table with two chairs appeared. On the table was a worn-looking board with several game pieces.

“Uh…” Ligur stuttered in confusion.

“Maybe more like...the new old-fashioned way?” Hastur supplied. “Not as dramatic in my opinion.”

“What the fuck is this?” Dagon complained.

“You’ll see,” Beelzebub intoned ominously. “Terms.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “One representative per playing piece.”

The prince stepped back, stunned. “But you’ve only got two to lose, including yourself.”

“Bigger payout,” Gabriel grinned, flashing his perfect teeth. “This one’s permanent.”

Beelzebub nodded slowly. “It’s your funeral. Let’s begin.”

-

The angel and demon took turns adding their pieces to the board while those surrounding them looked on with rapt attention. The rules were made clear after Gabriel formed the first mill, and looked at the demons with intense scrutiny.

“I’m feeling generous,” he said as he captured one of Beelzebub’s men and snapped his fingers. The Usher of Hell disappeared.

Spike let out a shrill scream that was shared by his duplicates. “Where did he go?” they demanded.

“Back to Hell, I imagine,” Azira commented. “Foul fiend.”

Crowley surveyed his angel out of the corner of his eye approvingly.

The game continued, and it looked like Beelzebub was about to form a mill of her own, but she must have overlooked her move. Gabriel was able to turn her loss to his advantage, disappearing Spike in the process.

Dagon frowned. “Beelzebub! Get your head in the game!”

The prince scowled at her colleague. “I know what I’m doing,” she snapped. “He hasn’t won a game in centuries.”

Soon all of their pieces were on the board, meaning that they needed to start moving their men to adjacent spots. Beelzebub soon found herself cornered just short of a mill.

“Damn you!” she cursed, gripping the sides of the table menacingly.

“Temper, temper,” Gabriel said smugly. “And look, another opening for my next move.” He slid a piece next to two others, forming his third mill. Ligur looked around before sighing in relief. It wasn’t his time to-

Hastur jumped as Ligur disappeared. “Seriously!” he cried. “My lord! We’re down to just the four of us!”

“SHE must be helping him,” Beelzebub accused. “Divine intervention is cheating, archangel!”

“I’m doing this all on my own,” Gabriel replied. “And it feels so, so good. Looks like your streak is coming to an end.”

The prince grew more noticeably agitated and fumbled her next move. Hastur was the next to go.

“That’s it!” Dagon cried out, fuming with rage. "Game or no game, I'm taking him out!"

She advanced on Azira with sharp claws at the ready. Crowley moved to block the angel but he pushed the redhead out of his way. In a stunning flash of light Azira summoned a flaming sword infused with Her grace. It blinded Dagon and she stumbled backwards, falling on her arse.

“If you’re ready to die, by all means come closer,” Azira threatened. “I’m in a smiting mood today.”

Crowley’s hand closed over his forearm, drawing him back just a pace. He squeezed tightly and the angel relaxed a little. Dagon hadn’t moved from the ground. Her gaze was locked on the sword as if in a trance.

“Now that’s taken care of, please proceed,” Crowley gestured toward the prince and archangel. They resumed the game.

The following moves went on for quite some time, each player sliding their pieces around on the board with little progress to be made.

“It’s a pity,” Gabriel said in a bored voice as he moved the same piece back and forth between Beelzebub’s moves.

“What?” she grumbled.

“Those instincts you kept bragging about,” the brunette said casually. “They don't seem to measure up to faith in the long run.”

“You seriously think your faith is why you're winning?” Beelzebub asked with a frown.

“Absolutely,” he replied. “Although sometimes it’s surprising where you put it. In the least expected places, actually.” His eyes softened as he regarded her.

The prince went still for a very long time, holding the piece in her hand like she’d been frozen. “Maybe my instinct wasn’t wrong either,” she stated. She set the piece down, not even bothering to watch his next move. With a scream, Dagon was removed from the earth.

Gabriel smiled warmly but the demon’s eyes grew wide with fear. “We still have to finish the game,” she said nervously.

The archangel nodded, all mirth leaving his face. “I wish…” he began.

“Shut the fuck up,” Beelzebub spat. “It's like it was going to work out anyways. An angel and a demon? Who were we kidding?” Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the board angrily.

Gabriel winced, a painful compression jolting his chest. He saw his next move all too clearly. Crowley and Azira looked meaningfully at each other and interlaced their fingers.

“It's just us now, and I have so many things left to say!” the redhead choked out as he stared into the frightened blue eyes of his angel. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you everything I wanted to tell you!"

He tangled a hand into his red hair, pulling at the roots. "I love you isn’t enough, Azira, it doesn’t even begin to cover it. I need to tell you what a difference you’ve made in my life!"

Azira reached up to soothe him, but Crowley was insistent. He needed to articulate these feelings before it was too late. "I was nothing but a demon before we met, but you showed me I was more than that because I could still choose between right and wrong. I might be a fallen angel but you gave me love when I didn’t think I’d ever feel it again. You’ve been my guiding light, my antipodes, my moral compass! My soulmate when I don’t even believe in soulmates!”

Something in Crowley’s confession triggered Azira to remember something long forgotten, little hints and symbols left like breadcrumbs along the way. Through this whole sordid journey from beginning to end, the answer was always there, already written and just waiting to be discovered.

“Oh, Crowley!” the angel sighed. “That's it! I know why I’m here! I know what I was sent to do!”

Gabriel's hand hovered over the board, resolve growing as it dipped down.

“It’s so simple!” Azira was laughing while the demon urged him on.

“What is it? What were you sent here to do?” Crowley demanded.

Gabriel sighed heavily, his eyes meeting Beelzebub’s one last time before placing his piece directly on the board.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Epilogue is next. :)

“...the Lord has a plan for us all. But some are more intricate than others. A little something to help you remember to follow the path and Her grace.” Gabriel had said that at the orphanage, when he had masqueraded as a priest.

“...he will move by attraction towards the moral magnet whom he resembles in spirit, but not yet in form.” The archangel had made a point of leaving that inscription in the book he’d given Azira. At first he’d believed it was about him - the hidden angel, unknown even to himself. But Crowley’s words when everything was about to end...

“You’ve been my guiding light, my antipodes, my moral compass!” Those words made everything clear. That was Her plan all along.

“I know what I was sent to do!” he shouted at Crowley. “It’s so simple!”

-

He blinked and saw Her standing next to him. She was so bright that he could barely see the outline of the scene in front of him. Beelzebub and Gabriel were locked in combat around the board. Crowley was reaching out one hand toward the angel, his eyes wide and desperate. Everything was moving in slow motion.

“I’ve figured it out!” Azira cried, whirling around toward Her.

“Oh really?” She asked, incredulous.

Azira waved a hand in the air. “You’re going to convert all the demons one by one using angels!”

“Convert is too strong a word. And not all of them. Just a few.” She looked pointedly at Beelzebub. “There are some I mourned the loss of. Perhaps as much as they mourned for me.”

“And this is for what...readmission?” Azira asked.

“No. I can’t grant that,” She said sadly.

“Well, what about the game?” he pressed on. “What’s the point of that?”

“Gabriel was right,” She explained. “The outcome will have permanent repercussions. After this, no demons or angels can come in or out. It is the last time they’ll play.”

The angel turned toward the three remaining contenders, not including himself. “I suppose it’s for the best,” he said softly. “But I...oh…” A tear rolled down his cheek and fell to the ground.

“You were going to say you don’t want to lose him,” She supplied. The blonde nodded miserably.

Azira twisted his fingers together as he looked at the ground. “You’ve worked so hard to bring us together. Beez and Gabriel. Me and Crowley. You’ve proven that angels and demons can become better for having known each other. For having...loved one another.”

“The four of you have been integral to my plan,” She agreed. “You’ve helped restore the balance of good and evil on earth. If it had gone on any longer, Lucifer would have been able to stage the apocalypse with his advantage.”

Azira suppressed a shuddering sigh as the tears welled up in his eyes. “I understand... We’re pawns to you, aren’t we? Just like in the game.” His anger and resentment were bubbling up to the surface, unable to be contained. “And now you’re done playing with us! Time to return the pieces to their respective places, right? Angels in Heaven and Demons in Hell?”

He faced Her, enraged by Her serenity in the face of his pain.

“Why go this far only to tear us apart?” he demanded, tears falling freely. “I love him!”

“Aziraphale,” She replied, and it was a balm on his soul, despite everything. “You forget that I invented every game under the sun, even this one we see playing out before us. I created the rules. And when I choose, I also break them. If it suits my will.”

Azira shook his head. “But you’re infallible,” he argued wearily. The angel knew this inherently, like all the other angels did. It was a matter of faith. “You don’t have to break the rules because you don’t make mistakes.”

She gazed at Her Principality with all the infinite bearing of Her divine Being. With a mere thought, the scene around them resumed its normal timeflow. The edge of Gabriel’s playing piece was just touching the board when a sudden wind picked up, blowing it and all of its remaining pieces to the ground.

Gabriel blinked and looked at Beelzebub, her own eyes wide with shock. Neither entity had the power to disrupt the game, and they both knew it.

Crowley crashed into Azira, throwing his arms around him for a final embrace, not seeing that the game had come to an unanticipated end. For his part, the angel could do nothing but stare at Her.

“Oops,” She said with a smirk, dissolving back into the ether of creation.

Azira laughed, long and loud.

-

Two angels and two demons began the long walk back to the village. In the front, Beelzebub and Gabriel were bickering.

“I’m just saying that if it had gone on, I would have won!” the archangel said emphatically. He had that antagonizing/know it all look on his face that the Prince absolutely despised.

“You complete nob!” she shouted. “I was letting you win! I might as well have been playing blindfolded. You only thought you were doing it on your own because I was so good at fooling everyone!”

“Ha!” Gabriel retorted. “You can’t admit that She was on my side the whole time! Who do you think controls the wind, anyways?!!”

Beez began to hop up and down in one place, tiny fists curled at her sides. “It’s called NATURE!” she howled.

As the pair were now stationary, Azira and Crowley easily lapped them, strolling by as a picture of harmony in comparison.

“You never finished your last sentence,” the demon reminded him as he squeezed the blonde’s hand. “You said you understood your purpose. I know that wasn’t you who knocked over the board, so you must have had something else in mind.”

Azira smiled easily. “I did,” he revealed. “But first, let me ask you something. Why were you at the orphanage? I mean initially, before we met you were already there.”

“Yeah,” Crowley confirmed. “My first assignment. I was sent as a newborn to St. Elysium, meant to be a holy terror for the brothers to look after. And believe me I was. No one could cry and scream louder than me, and I was forever cholic. But as I started to grow up I sort of got stuck at one age. The brothers started to get suspicious when I appeared to be six years old for three years in a row. I had no idea how to fix it, so I just disappeared one day. They thought I’d run away or been kidnapped. Oddly, I don’t think they missed me.”

Azira chuckled a little. “How long did you stay like that? Invisible and alone?”

“Oh,” the demon said thoughtfully. “I stuck around the orphanage for at least a decade before you showed up. Every once in a while I tried to play with the other boys. I’d show myself temporarily to see if we could get on, but they always turned me away. But you...you didn’t.”

Azira pulled the demon into his arms, kissing his cheek lightly before they continued walking on. “You’re the reason She sent me there,” he said softly. “I think I understand now that She saw it as a unique opportunity to pair us together as children. My purpose, as it was, was to influence you toward the good, to provide a balance to the darkness you’d brought to earth.”

“I don’t think I’d have grown up without you,” Crowley said. “Our friendship was the catalyst for me to develop into something more than I thought possible. To be nurtured by someone, to be cared about. I’d forgotten what that was like. And before you ask, no, the brothers did not count.”

Azira laughed heartily. “They really didn’t. I always thought Father Gabriel was such a jerk, too. But now I realize he knew nothing about humans, let alone children.”

“She could’ve provided him a manual or something,” Crowley protested.

The angel shrugged. “I’m sure She had Her reasons. Does have, I mean. After all, She doesn’t make mistakes.” He smiled knowingly to himself while the redhead stared up at the sky.

“So you think you’ve fulfilled your purpose, then?” he asked out of nowhere.

Azira brought their clasped hands up, kissing the back of the demon’s knuckles. The village was just coming into view.

“In some ways. But my work goes ever on you know. I’m going to live for eternity, as are you. That’s an awfully long time to love someone, especially a demon. I suppose I’ve got my work cut out for me.” Azira dodged a shoulder slap from the redhead with a mischievous grin on his face.

“You’re a bit of a bastard, you know that?” Crowley frowned.

Azira grabbed the demon and locked him in his embrace, peppering his face with kisses. “And that,” he said between pecks, “Is why you love me so.”

-

Far behind the besotted pair, Beez and Gabriel had dropped into a sullen silence. Every once in a while he tried to take her hand, but it was always snapped away at the last second.

“I just can’t see why you can’t admit-” he began.

“Shut up,” she warned. “Shut up or I will kill you dead.”

The archangel huffed and rolled his eyes at the clouds above.

Suddenly Beez stopped short, squinting at the sight of a Crowley and Aziraphale sandwich far ahead of them.

“Ugh,” she commented. “They are so gross!”

“All over each other,” Gabriel agreed in disgust. “Get a room, right?”

“Can’t keep their hands off each other for a second!” Beez went on. “It’s indecent!”

“Despicable,” Gabriel spat.

Beez glanced at him. “Offensive.”

Gabriel glanced back. “Um...bad.”

She tackled him, sending them into the brush off of the side of the road.

Thinking they had heard something strange, Crowley and Azira broke apart momentarily to stare down the road, but there was nothing there.


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a cutesy fluff cherry for the sundae.

“South Downs,” Azira read the sign as they landed outside of the town limits. Crowley had insisted there was no need to pack anything, not yet anyways.

“Just a day trip,” the demon had insisted. Now he was standing in front of the rickety sign looking very pleased with himself.

“Perhaps it would help if I saw the town?” Azira supplied helpfully.

“Right!” Crowley agreed. He reached for the angel’s hand and led them down a long dirt road. “Do you remember when we were talking about a cottage? Early retirement and all that?” he tried to keep his tone nonchalant.

Azira smiled to himself. “Oh yes, we were being quite silly then, weren’t we? After everything that’s happened, it’s hard to imagine abandoning our important roles on earth, and to do what? Sit around and read books by some picturesque pond? Plant a little garden, perhaps?”

The angel laughed and Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, heheh. That would be pretty irresponsible.” He slowed his previously brisk pace to a halt and Azira looked past him, beyond the trees.

“Why, look at that idyllic little house there! It’s just the sort I would have wanted. Come my dear, let’s take a closer look.”

The demon trailed behind him looking mortified.

The blonde got close enough to admire the yellow shutters, the perfectly placed porch swing, and a mailbox that was equipped with a pair of wings. “Goodness!” he exclaimed. “It really is lovely. The owner and I share a similar sensibility. I do wish we could go inside.”

Crowley cleared his throat and rolled his eyes to Heaven as the outrageously clueless angel continued to dote on the house. “How about a little demonic miracle?” he asked. He snapped his fingers and the door popped open.

“Oh my!” Azira decried. “Well...a little peek wouldn’t hurt.”

The angel primly walked up the steps and strode inside, apparently only offended at the ‘breaking’ portion of breaking and entering. Once he’d made it to the spacious living room he gave a little squeal of delight. “Oh how they’ve decorated!” he cheered. “It looks so much like my own little shop, don’t you think?”

The redhead stared at him like he had two heads. “I don’t know, Azira. Don’t YOU think?”

“I even have some of these same volumes,” the blonde went on. “What are the odds?”

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“They are obviously coffee connoisseurs,” Azira mentioned, noticing the state of the art espresso machine on the counter.

The demon gave up and sat on the sofa. He considered setting the timer on his watch. Maybe another five minutes? He watched the angel putter around, admiring the expansive backyard with delightful landscaping, the way the kitchen nook looked out at the pond, and the vaulted ceilings that made everything look that much more impressive. He eventually made it to the master bedroom on the lower level and didn’t come out of the room for a long time.

Crowley stood up, getting a good stretch in before sauntering after him, leaning on the doorway as he surveyed the blonde’s expression.

The angel was sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands folded in his lap, his eyes brimming with tears. “This is our home, isn’t it?” he asked dully.

The demon came close and sat next to him, wrapping his arms around the blonde. “Yeah.”

Azira sighed. “Did you know, when I was a little boy...or at least when I thought I was a little boy...I used to imagine what my family’s house looked like. I could never settle on a firm plan, even in my own mind. I’d rearrange the rooms, redecorate the trim, paint it over from white to grey to green over and over again. Now I know that I couldn’t get it right not for a failure to remember, but the fact that it never existed. For some reason that makes me even sadder, to have lost something I never had.”

Crowley sat quietly and nodded.

“You were like that too,” Azira explained. “When I went to therapy they told me I made you up, but the thing about you was I never forgot even the tiniest feature. I could pick the shade of your hair from a million similar colors. I could remember the number of freckles on your nose. And now I’m looking around this place, something that you did just for me, in exactly the way I’ve always wanted...”

He looked at the demon in admiration and total angelic love. “I realize that I never forgot a thing because you were better than anything I could have imagined.”

-

Later, Crowley would deny that he had tears in his eyes when he bent down on the floor and gathered Azira’s hands in his lap. The angel leaned down and kissed his demon before drawing him up onto the bed where they lay facing one another.

“So what gave it away, Sherlock?” Crowley asked finally.

Azira smiled and raised his eyes to the wall space above the bed. Hanging in a shadowbox was a delicate golden key, one that anyone else would have dismissed as a piece of decor. No one but the two of them would have known that many years ago it had unlocked the rare books at St. Elysium, which gave Azira access to some of the finests texts and scholarship collected by the brothers.

“I didn’t realize you’d kept it,” Crowley said. “But I when I saw it in your desk I knew it should be displayed in a special place. Thought a house would go well with it.”

Azira laughed softly as he stroked the demon’s cheek. “Darling,” he breathed. “I couldn’t agree more.”


End file.
